The Hunter's Prey
by Sarah36396
Summary: Re-writing a story I wrote forever ago. My version of Hawkeye and Black Widows origins story. Will cover everything from their initial meeting to the Red Room, Drakov, Budapest, The Avengers movies, random missions, etc. Clint/Natasha. Updates posted almost daily. Rated for occasional language and some dark themed flashbacks.
1. Chapter 1

**So I wrote this story back in high school nearly 5 years ago and posted it on my old account(if you're interested in more Avengers trash, shoot me a pm and I'll send you the name). It has always been one of my favorite stories I've wrote and it has racked up over 50,000+ reads. So I decided it is time to give it the face lift it deserves and an official re-boot. Hoping to get one or two chapters posted a week. Thanks for dropping in :)**

**My version of a Hawkeye/Black Widow origins story/Budapest/all kinds of Clintasha goodness and missions. I do not own any of the characters written about below. **

The night was still and silent, not a breath or branch to be heard. Dark clouds covered the night sky and thunder rumbled in the distance. Forest creatures had escaped to their dens and holes long ago, sensing the oncoming storm. Snow already fell in thick waves and the grey clouds periodically lit up with a flash and rumble. The forest was dead except for one who remained out in the storm. It moved about on two legs like death itself had taken on a form. It moved like a shadow, swift and silent, with movements so graceful and precise that it appeared to be gliding. Blue eye smoldered in the darkness, cutting through the night and taking in everything from the smallest broken twig to the slightest flash of lightning. Everything about the movements, the way it stalked, sent a clear message to the rest of the forest: this was a hunter stalking his prey.

Clint broke the silence by allowing himself a soft sigh as he stepped out onto a rocky ledge. It protruded out over the valley below, giving him an excellent few of the surrounding forest. His breath turned to frost and he pulled the lower half of his balaclava higher. He shivered slightly as the snow began to collect on his now still shoulders and he mourned the warmth of the fire that he had left hours ago. His body was still on high alert, a trained killer at work, but his mind began to feel sluggish as he stood there, as if he hadn't slept for some time. Another shiver ran through his body and he reminded himself to keep moving. He moved to a lone pine that stood on the ledge and reached up to the lowest branch. His gloves gripped the bark and he pulled himself into the tree with a practiced eased. He ascended quickly, his hands and feet never missing their place. He scaled past the thick branches and high into the tree where the smaller branches swayed and bent under his weight.

Clint sat perched at the top of the pine like a hawk, his eyes taking in everything below. The valley below him was scattered with more forest and rocky outcrops, everything covered in a blanket of snow. He spotted several deer bedded down in a clearing, but that was not his target. No, his target lay before him: a compound of thick concrete walls and roaming soldiers. It was sat up in a long rectangle and he could see several different sectioned off areas inside. Spot lights were set up at every corner, sweeping the ground below. Guards paced along the tops of the walls, their weapons drooped and their attention lax from boredom and the cold. They had become too comfortable being hidden away from the world, too confident that they wouldn't be found.

His eyes flicked to the top of the compound to where a high building set next to a low. He knew was it was thanks to the intel he had received; a lab of some kind and a small housing unit for the subjects that were 'invited' there. He watched the lit up windows of the smaller building and caught just a flash of red that anyone else would have missed, but Clint saw more than most people. The lights went out and he licked his lips in anticipation as he began to climb down from the tree. He reached the lowest branch and dropped to the ground.

He rolled his shoulders and dropped to a crouch, stretching out his stiff limbs, before setting off once more. He made his way down the ledge to the valley below, moving like a shadow. Time ticked away as he crept closer and closer to the compound, his keen eyes keeping a track of the guards and spotlights ahead. He skirted around several sentries and found himself standing at the base of a thick concrete wall. He craned his neck and looked up, smiling slowly. The wall had several cracks and creases where the separate concrete blocks had been fused together and his eyes picked out a path in no one. Clint adjusted his bow and reached for the first crack, his gloved hands giving him traction. He moved his foot into a foothold and pushed himself up off the ground. He began scaling the wall, careful of the icy film that covered everything: all it would take was one slip and a grunt to blow his cover. As he reached the top of the wall he paused, hanging there just below the edge. He closed his eyes and let his ears see for him and he counted the guards footsteps and visualized their paths back and forth across the wall.

Two guards patrolled this point, moving in opposite directions before reversing and passing one another in an endless repeated cycle. It would be a tight window, but Clint could make it work. His problem would be getting down once he made his move. He knew he had climbed at least thirty feet and that was no small drop. He could try to take the two guards out, but if he blew his cover now months of surveillance and hours upon hours of work would be wasted. He careful pulled one hand away from the wall and pressed a button on his wrist before reaching for an arrow. He felt the proper attachment click into place and he pulled it from his quiver with a sound. He placed it between his teeth before coiling his muscles, ready to make his play.

He heard the guards pass each other and he waited until they were several paces away before he hoisted himself to the top of the wall. He landed with a noiseless roll and fought his instincts to balk as he rolled off the other side of the wall. He snatched the arrow and drove it between two lines of mortar, the razor sharp metal melting through the concrete. He caught himself and hung there by one hand, his body hitting the wall with a slight thump.

"What was that?" He heard the thick Russian voice from above and he flattened himself against the wall, his arm burning from support his weight.

"Nothing?" He heard the second voice reply, clearly irritated. "You worry too much."

"And you worry too little." The first voice snapped. "You foolish children are handed a gun and you suddenly think you are a solider. Let me tell you a thing or two about-"

"Spare me the lecture old man." The second voice snapped back. "You are always hearing or seeing things that aren't there."

The two continued to argue in Russian and Clint allowed himself to breath again. He looked down and found that he was hanging halfway down the wall. He could climb, but the drift of snow below him looked like a much more convenient way down. Clint pushed away from the wall, yanking the arrow out, and allowed himself to fall. He landed with a muted thud and for a moment white filled his vision. He sat up and shook the snow from his face, allowing himself a look up at the wall. The guards never bothered looking over and he could still hear drifts of their argument. He smiled to himself and pulled his bow from his back, slipping the arrow from the wall into the notch. The easy part was over, now the real work would begin.

Clint began to move through the compound, working his way towards the top. He clung to the shadows of the wall and easily avoided several sentries that were oblivious to anything beside what was right in front of their faces. He marveled at the sense of security that these soldiers had; they were far too confident and comfortable in their fortress of stone. He pushed that thought aside as he reached the heavy chain link fence that sectioned the top of the fortress off from the rest. He could hear the energy arching through it and he pulled his lip in between his teeth as he tried to think of a way around it. His eyes flicked across the way to a building that hummed with energy and he remembered that his contact had mentioned a powerhouse. The easiest thing to do would be to go shut the power of manually and slip out unseen, but the more he did the more he risked exposure.

His hand dropped to his pocket and he fished out a black pebble looking device. He stuck his arrow between his teeth and pressed the device against his bow string, his shoulders pulling together as he took aim. He released the pebble and it flew forward, landing in a drift of snow near the back of the building. He heard a soft hum as the EMP did its work and the fence fell silent, lights flickering all throughout the compound. Several guards yelled and ran towards the building and he took the opportunity to scale the fence. He landed on the other side and strung his bow once more as he crept towards the building he knew to be the lab. He reached the wall and stretched to peek into one of the windows, frowning at what he saw. There was several tables with restrains set up in a row, a wall of vicious looking devices behind them. Dark stains covered the floors and rows of vails and test tubes covered any open counter space. Clint had heard rumors of the things that went on here, the experiments, the brain washing, the tortures, but he hadn't known what to believe until now. A shiver ran through his body and he moved away from the window.

He moved further down the wall and found a dumpster that reeked of rotting flesh and spoiled food. He fought the urge to gag and his nose flared as he climbed onto the lid and hoisted himself onto the roof. He crouched low and moved towards the other side, towards the low building where he had saw the flash of red. He took a deep breath as he strung his bow, his heart pounding a bit faster as he neared his target. Of all the targets he had hunted down, he knew this could be the one that killed him.

This woman was as skilled as he was and just as deadly. He had been sent here to take her out before she could take them out; she had gotten on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar when she had assassinated one of the agents that was snooping around for information on one of Russian's most intense crime organizations. The agent had no business being off the radar and in Russia in the first place, but when the woman had become known they wasted no time in digging up everything they had on her. It turned out she had a rather extension lists of confirmed kills and elaborate plots under her belt. The directors of S.H.I.E.L.D had decided that she was an immediate threat and needed to be disposed of, so they had sent in their best: Clint. He did his own research, his own digging, and found that the Red Room and Drakov's organization was worse than anything they had ever come across; Hydra had nothing on these guys.

Clint had tried reasoning with Nick Fury over the entire situation, but the directors would not hear it. They were scared of anything more powerful than what they had in their arsenal, or more precisely anything more powerful that they did not control. Clint had a feeling that there was more to this mysterious assassin than just a killer, but no one wanted to hear it. No one wanted to think that anyone besides S.H.I.E.L.D could have that much sway over a person. Clint's jaw hardened and he thought about himself and his line of work. He had always justified himself by saying he was helping to protect his country, but now they were somewhere sticking their noses where it didn't belong. This had nothing to do with them, yet here he was in the middle of the Russian wasteland.

Clint's focused snapped back to the job at hand and he swallowed hard, his mind at war with his conscious. The easiest thing to do would be to fire an explosive arrow straight into the building, to blow everything sky high and take off. But, his curiosity had stayed his hand. His curiosity had brought him all the way through the forest and the valley into this very compound so he could see this so called Master Assassin first hand. He had to know what made her so special, so mysterious. He had to know what made her like him.

A guard yelled something from the power house and his eyes flicked that way for just a moment. When they flicked back to the window he found that he was no longer alone. A pair of green eyes stared back at him, eyes that were filled with a deep anger and sadness. He could feel the bitterness, could feel the resentment, in that gaze. He took a step back, his bow still strung tight, the arrow still aimed at the woman. All it would take was a movement of his fingers and the job would be through, he could go home, but he couldn't make himself move, he couldn't take the shot. The woman moved quickly and threw the window open, holding her arms wide.

"Were you not sent here to kill me? Why do you hesitate?" She demanded in a soft but harsh whisper. "You've made it this far, you had a shot, yet you are a coward. Pathetic." She spat in Russian. Clint said nothing and continued staring her down. "You have a shot, take it. End this hell on earth that I have become a part of." She whipped a pistol out from a holster on her thigh and Clint tensed, his fingers almost letting the arrow fly on instinct alone. She scoffed at him and tossed the gun aside, shaking her head. "What are you waiting on?" She finally dropped her gaze, frowning.

Clint made his decision in that moment. He let the arrow fly and it planted itself in the window sill, inches from her head. She looked up in surprise, her brows furrowing together as Clint slung his bow over his back. He hopped down from the roof and snatched his arrow from window frame, his eyes never leaving her.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I won't kill you."

"I could kill you. I do not need that gun."

"Oh, I have no doubts about that, but I won't be the one to kill you."

"Why?" She hissed, her eyes flashing angrily. "You've come all this way for what then? To turn around and go home?" Clint shrugged. "I do not understand you."

"Welcome to the club." He crossed his arms, scowling at her. "I've been doing my homework- I know who you are. I know what you've done. And I also know who you work for and what they have done. I've heard the rumors, I've seen the lab. And I do not believe that you are the monster they portray you to be."

"Ha!" She scoffed at him. "Is that what you believe? You read a few files, you hear a few stories, and you pass judgement? You know nothing about me. You do not even know my name. Yet you stand there with the audacity to pass judgement on me?"

"Fine then, I won't shoot an unarmed man."

"Ugh!" She growled in frustration, her hands clenching into fist. "I should have killed you in Paris, or told the guards when I saw you skulking down that hill."

"Why didn't you then?" Clint raised a brow. "Because you are like me."

"How am I like you?" She spat. "You know nothing-"

"Yeah, I don't know you or your angsty past or anything about your pity party you seem to be having. But, you didn't kill me because you are curious, just like I am. You know that I could have killed you in Paris just as easily as you killed me. You know that I could have taken you out without coming all the way here. But I didn't. Because I was curious."

"Is that what you know?" She snapped angrily. "So what do you plan to do? Should we sit down and have tea and discuss all of our feelings and ghosts?"

"I don't drink tea." Clint shrugged. "You know that there is more to life than this?" He gestured to the compound. "You know that there is a whole world out there beyond the leash you are being kept on? You run out and do whatever Drakov asks of you out of fear, and you come back every time out of fear. You are afraid to die, yet you just told me to kill you. Because you do not enjoy the things you do. But, you've done what you must to survive. And I know that because I was you."

"You know nothing." She turned away from him.

"Oh, you might be surprised. We've all got red in our ledgers. We all have stuff we'd like to wipe out."

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me." He stared at her. "I won't kill you, but I can give you a chance to make things right. I can get you away from here, I can give you a shot at a chance of freedom."

"Don't lie to me. You pretend to be free, yet here you are on orders from your higher up, are you not?"

"I was sent here to kill you. You look awfully alive to me."

"You'll go back and be thrown into jail."

"Ha," Clint laughed. "They wouldn't dare. They know I'd get away. No, I'll get yelled at, put on probation for a while, maybe lose my desert privileges, but I won't be punished." He shrugged. "And I definitely won't be strapped down and tortured."

"Stop it." Her eyes flashed.

"Come back with me." Clint didn't know where the words were coming from, but his gut told him that he was making the right call. "Come back with me and start a new ledger. Start a new life for yourself."

"It isn't that easy."

"But it is. Stop making it hard. Walk away from this so that you can come back and put a stop to it one day."

The woman said nothing, her hands trembling. Her eyes were tortured and sad, and Clint had to admit that she was right; he really did not know anything about her, not really. But, his gut told him that they were not all that different. That she was not an evil person, that she did not belong here caged like a hunting dog waiting to be used.

"If I go with you…what happens?"

"Dunno." Clint shrugged. "I've never made it a habit to bring my targets home with me. Guess we will find out."

"They'll kill me."

"I won't allow it." Clint's eyes flashed. "You have my word- I will not let them hurt you."

"And why should I trust you?" She challenged, her eyes finding his once more. She searched his face, trying to find answers for the turmoil inside her head. "Why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't, I mean you have no reason to. I am just an assassin after all. But, so are you. And that means you have instincts, instincts that you have used to keep yourself alive, instincts that you trust more than anything else in the world. So, maybe trust them instead."

A long silence stretched between them and Clint watched as she rang her hands together, pacing back and forth in front of the window. Several minutes passed before she finally stopped pacing. She paused and snatched her gun off the ground and Clint's heart jumped into his throat. He had just a moment to think he had made a mistake before she slid the pistol into her holster and met his eyes.

"I'll go."


	2. Chapter 2

"I'll go." Natasha dropped her gaze, her voice soft. Just as Clint looked up at her the power flicked back on in the building and the fence hummed to life.

"Shit." Clint muttered, turning to look at the powerhouse.

"Ah, so you were responsible for the power going out then?"

"Key word being "were". Now we have to get back over that damned fence without getting fried." He ran a hand over his face.

"I know a way out." She frowned. "Let me grab a few things." Clint just nodded, leaning against the window frame and watching as she moved to a chest against the wall. She pulled two black bands out and put them around her wrist and pulled a second pistol out, holstering it on her other thigh. She grabbed a small bag from inside the chest and slipped it onto her back before moving back to the window and crawling out.

"After you." Clint waved his hands towards the fence but she turned and moved towards the back wall. "So you know your way around."

"Stop talking." She said, irritated with the man that followed her. He was different, strange even. Natasha decided she did not like him. He had broken all of the rules thus far, and her life relied heavily on rules. She kicked her foot across a trap door, knocking snow aside. She bent down and opened it up, waving a hand towards the ladder.

"How do I know you aren't about to trap me down there?"

"How do I know you aren't an idiot?" She muttered and moved towards the ladder, but he pushed past her and started down. She pulled the trapdoor closed before climbing down after him and considered kicking him in the head just for the hell of it, but decided against it; what good would it do? He'd still be just as irritating and all she'd have to go back to is Drakov and his men. And if they caught wind of her attempted escape…a shudder ran down her spine as she thought some of the cruel and unspeakable punishments she had received in the past.

"And so the spider whisk the poor fly away to her secret dungeon." Clint said dramatically as his feet touched the floor, pulling her back to the present and away from her demons. "Lovely place you have here."

"You talk too much." Natasha pulled her pistol out and looked around with a frown. "There is an occasional sentry down here sometimes. Be on your guard."

"I am Clint, by the way."

Natasha turned to look at him, a mixture of disbelief and disgust in her eyes. What assassin gave their name away so freely? Who exposed any part of their identity to someone they had just met? Her irritation with him grew as she tried to figure out just what to think about him. He hadn't killed her, but that didn't mean that he wasn't crazy or threat. For all she knew he could be leading her into a trap. Her shoulders tensed as she looked at him, wondering just how hard of a fight he'd put up if it came down to it.

"Stop looking at me like you want to eat me." Clint muttered, pulling his bow from his back and notching an arrow.

"Why in the world do you use a bow?" The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She didn't want to give him any ideas about talking to her.

"Because I do not believe in guns." He said very seriously. "They kill people, you know?"

"Excuse me?" Natasha scowled and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Lighten up Red. It was a joke. I've just always been a good shot. Why change what you're good at?"

" . .that." Natasha bit off each word, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, it'd be helpful to know your name then."

"Not happening." Natasha scowled at him. "Come on, let's get out of here. Where is your extraction point?"

"The De Grand Hotel is Moscow. We have a good days hike ahead of us to make it back to my snowmobile, then it will take a few hours to reach town."

"Walk my ass." She muttered. "I'll get us a ride. There will be a guard stationed at the end of this tunnel. We can take his keys and his vehicle."

"Are you always such a ray of sunshine?"

"Do you always ask stupid questions?" She snapped, pushing ahead of him. They walked down the tunnel in silence, Natasha keeping well ahead of Clint. He followed her quietly, watching her as she watched and tried to figure out what to think about her. She was colder than anyone he had ever met and the walls she had built up around herself were rather impressive. Clint wondered just how much she had been hurt, just how many times had her trust been betrayed? And who was responsible? Clint was so lost in thought that he nearly walked into her, not realizing she had stopped.

"What's the- oh." Clint shoulders tensed as he spotted the ground of four men that stood at the end of the tunnel. They carried M14s and every last gun was pointed at them.

"Do not move, Widow." He heard one of the men say cruelly. "It seems you have acquired a stray pup on your midnight stroll."

"Get out of my way Donovac. I do not have time for your games."

"Oh, but you will when I drag you back to Drakov. Perhaps he will reward me with my efforts. Would you enjoy some time alone with me? Sedated and unable to-"

"Hey." Clint stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "How would you like a few seconds alone with me? No sedation, just you, me, and an ass beating."

"Shut up, American." Donovac spat. "You know nothing of this whore. You'll be nothing more than one of her victims before long."

"I'd be more worried about being my victim." Clint said coldly. "I really don't like assholes and I am pretty sure you are an asshole."

"Put your weapons down before I shoot your hands away." Donovac replied in a calm tone. "I won't kill you, yet. First we will find out what you are doing here and what your purpose is. And then perhaps the guard dogs will eat your filthy scrap of a body."

"Last warning Donovac, get out of my way." Natasha glared at him.

"Only if you fuck me, Na-" He never got the chance to finish his sentence. An arrow lodged in his shoulder and he stumbled backwards with a cry. The other three men's guns roared to life and Clint grabbed Natasha, yanking her behind a stack of crates.

"Get your hands off of me!" She snapped, shoving him hard and nearly knocking him out of cover.

"Sorry for trying to save your life." He muttered. He whipped another arrow from his quiver and fired a blind shot. He heard a man's cry and he smirked, knowing he had hit someone.

"Shit." Natasha swore as she heard a siren begin to wail overhead. She pulled the silencer off her pistol and fired several shots towards the end of the tunnel. "We are about to have company."

"We already have company." Clint whipped around and fired on instinct alone. His arrow found the neck of the solider who had ran up behind them. The man's weapon clattered to the ground and the man sank to his knees, dead. "We have to get out of here or we will get surrounded."

"Too late!" Natasha swore as a group of soldiers clambered down the tunnel from the direction they came. Clint shot an arrow over the top of the boxes towards the tunnels exit where several more soldiers had converged.

"I hate tight spaces." Clint muttered, firing several arrows in rapid succession. "Getting too crowded over here, can't get a clear shot."

"Then switch!" The swapped in unison, standing back to back with each other. Natasha fired slower than Clint, but every single one of her shots downed a man. Clint's bow sang as he fired arrow after arrow in the mouth of the tunnel, but the men kept pouring in. He reached for another arrow and swore when he grabbed air. He reached to his side weapon and pulled out a pistol, firing several deadly shots into the group. Clint heard the click of Natasha's empty magazine and he reached into his belt, grabbing a mag and tossing it over his shoulder. Natasha caught it, surprised, and loaded her pistol once more. The trickle of men slowed and the crowd became thinner, then stopped all together. They stood there breathing heavily and Clint holstered his pistol.

"Well then."

"You aren't a bad shot." Natasha admitted. "I was surprised."

"A bow isn't always practical." He shrugged and leg the way towards the mouth of the tunnel. He heard a click behind him and he whirled around. "Duck!" He yelled as he drew a knife and threw it in one fluid motion. A bullet flew past Natasha's head and Clint's knife found the throat of the soldier that hadn't been quite dead.

"Thanks." She looked at him in surprise. "I didn't even see him."

"Me either. I heard him." Clint shook his head and looked at her curiously. They had just fought off an entire Russian compound with nothing more than a few scrapes and bullet grazes. They had worked together with a harmony that only came from years of practice, yet they had just met. They hard worked with an uncanny harmony, and Clint could tell the woman was just as troubled by it as he was.

"Drakov is sure to send reinforcements. That was not the entire compounds guards. They'll be sending in the dogs and fraggers next. We need to move."

"Right." Clint picked up several arrows as they picked their way down the tunnel and returned them to his quiver. "Here." He grabbed a pistol from one of the soldiers and tossed it to Natasha. "There."

"Thanks." She tossed her spent pistol aside and replaced it with the new one. "You shot Donovac first…why?"

"Because I can not stand men like that." Clint scowled. He wanted to ask her just how many times she had been subjected to such a punishment, how many times they had done her wrong, but he knew better. That was opening himself up to get shot. They stepped out into the open air and Clint heaved a sigh of relief, then jumped as his cellphone rang.

"Finally!" He heard Coulson's worried voice on the other end. "Where in the hell have you been? We lost signal on you over two hours ago!"

"I've been a little busy Phil. No time to explain. Can you get a ping on our coordinates?"

"Let me see…yeah, I've got you locked in. Wait, our? Who is with you?"

"Long story. I need an extraction here as soon as you can. We aren't going to make it back to Moscow!"

"We? Clint, what in the hell have you done this time? Why is it always you?" Clint cast a sideways look at Natasha and he could tell by her smirk that she had heard Coulson.

"You have a reputation for trouble?" She raised a brow, but he ignored her.

"Can you get us out of here or not?"

"Of course I can. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes, right." Clint heard a clamber in the tunnel and he nodded at Natasha, setting off at a jog. She followed him into the forest as the baying of dogs became audible from the tunnel. "Keep a track on us, we are on the move. And we are bringing company."

"Of course you are. We are on the way."

Clint shoved the phone back into his pocket and ducked in and out of the trees. Natasha went to move straight forward but he grabbed her arm and pulled her sideways, ignoring her attempts to hit his hands. She finally relented and allowed him to lead her through the trees. She frowned as she realized they were working backwards now, back around the compound.

"We are going backwards!"

"That ledge is the only place around here they can land!" Clint staggered as a gun fired and his bicep seemed to ignite. "Damn it!" He turned Natasha loose and clutched a hand over the hole in his arm. "Don't stop moving."

"Didn't plan on it." Natasha spun around as she ran, running backwards for a brief moment and firing several shots towards the sound of the following soldiers. "You ok?"

"I'll-" A dog sprang out of no where and pounced at him. Clint hit the ground and the rolled, his arms moving to cover his face. He felt sharp teeth shred at his arm and a scream got stuck in his throat. The sound of a gun made his ears ring and blood sprayed his face as the dog's jaws relaxed on his arm. He shoved the lifeless body aside and staggered to his feet, blood pouring from several holes and shreds in his arm.

"Oh shit." Natasha's face whitened. Clint looked down at his arm and his vision swam as he saw bone. "Oh shit." She repeated.

"Keep moving." He gritted his teeth, hugging his arm to his stomach and staggering towards the ledge. The sound of a chopper came within earshot and he stumbled, heading towards the ground. Natasha caught him and hauled his arm over her shoulder before dragging him along, swearing the entire time.

"Barton!" Coulson yelled as the chopper swooped into view. A ladder dropped and swayed there before them and several bullets pinged from the metal. "Get up here!"

"Go!" Clint snapped at her, his head swimming.

"Oh, shut up and climb!" She shoved him towards the ladder. He grunted and wrapped one hand around the wrung and stepped onto the ladder. Natasha scrambled on beside him and hung there, trying to keep as much distance between there as possible.

"Pull us up!" Clint yelled, swaying slightly. Coulson hit a button and the ladder began to retract as bullets whizzed around them. Natasha felt one catch her calf and her breath caught as she fought the urge to scream.

"Can't this thing move any faster?" She snapped, grinding her teeth together. A set of hands appeared and Clint was yanked into the chopper. She used her good leg to hoist herself inside and the door slid shut behind them. She felt the chopper veer sharply and she knew they had changed directions, heading away from trouble.

"What in the hell happened?" Coulson demanded, propping Clint up against the wall. "Is that bone? Oh god."

"Move." Natasha snapped, shouldering him out of the way. She grabbed a parachute pack and ripped it open, grabbing a knife from her belt and cutting off a large strip. She wrapped it around his shredded forearm before tying it as tightly as she could, then repeated the process once more. "That should stop the bleeding until we can land. He needs stitches."

"You don't say." Coulson narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"Does it really matter?" Natasha snapped before sinking to the ground, holding her calf. She swore in Russian and cut another strand of parachute, wrapping it around the hole in her leg.

"I am going to talk to the pilot. There has to be a friendly area we can land in long enough to get him patched up." He turned to Clint. "We'll talk as soon as you aren't dying. I need answers, sooner rather than later." He turned and looked at the woman, his brows furrowing. His face suddenly paled and he took a step back, his eyes darting to Clint. "Barton, please tell me you didn't."

"Just get us the hell out of here." Clint groaned. "You can yell at me later."

"Oh god." Coulson muttered to himself as he escaped towards the cockpit, his face white as a sheet. Natasha watched as he fumbled his phone from his pocket, hands shaking, and then the door shut, cutting them off from the other two men.

"Hey, thanks." Clint looked at Natasha intensely. "You saved my life."

"Yeah, well, you kept me from getting shot in the back of the head." She muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Natasha pulled her backpack off and pulled a cleaning kit from it, setting it on the ground. She tossed the borrowed pistol aside before pulling hers out and she began dissembling it with practiced ease. Silence filled the room and Clint's head dropped back against the wall. She cast a sideways glance at him, trying to make sure his chest was still rising and falling. Her breath caught for just a moment but then she saw him take a shallow breath, his body trembling. She did not like him and to make matters worse, now she owed him. And if he died while she owed him…she shook her head. This is exactly why she refused to work with others.

"Wake me when we get there. Please." His voice was barely audible and she could hear the strain there.

'What if you don't wake up?' She thought, eyeing the blood that was beginning to pool through his bandages. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen to her if he died then. Would they kill her too? Or imprison her? Or worse, send her back. She shivered and sat the pieces of her pistol down, studying his face.

"Ok." She finally said. She paused for a moment and watched his head sag towards his chest. "Romanoff. You can call me Romanoff."


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha met Coulson's eyes as he stepped out of the cockpit, looking between her and Clint. She could see the fear there, both of her and that Clint was dead. She just shook her head at him and sheathed her now clean pistol. She returned the kit to her bag and sat it aside before climbing to her feet. She saw Coulson's hand move to his side and he watched her through skeptical eyes.

"I don't plan on trying to kill you." Natasha finally said. "And he isn't dead, yet. But he is losing blood fast." She crouched and tied another strip around the bloody bandages on Clint's arm. "He needs stiches sooner rather than later, probably a blood transfusion too."

"What happened?" Coulson asked softly, his shoulders finally relaxing as concern took the place of fear. "I've never seen him look so…"Coulson gestured helplessly.

"Dog got a hold of him. I shot him, but not before the damage was done." Natasha pursed her lips. "We fight off half a damn compound with barely a scratch and he gets mauled by a damn dog. What an idiot." She muttered, moving to stand beside the door. She looked out the small window at the passing land below.

"We will be landing at a small friendly base just outside of Russia. Should be touching the ground in less than ten minutes. How worried should I be that you are with me?"

"Not many know who I am." She said bitterly, keeping her gaze trained outside. "We'll be fine long enough to get him patched up.

"I'll go radio ahead then. Can you see if you can get him up?"

"Why me?" Natasha frowned, crossing her arms. "I do not like him. I do not like you. He forced my hand to get me here."

"Did he?" Coulson raised a brow. "I feel like there is more to the story than that."

"God you sound just like him." Natasha muttered. "Stop ogling at me and go radio ahead." She finally snapped.

Coulson disappeared and Natasha walked over to Clint, nudging him with her boot. When he didn't respond she crouched next to him, slapping him lightly on the face. Clint groaned and his head rolled. Natasha held him steady and popped him again, muttering to herself. Clint's eyes finally fluttered open and he looked at her, confused and dazed.

"Time to get up." She drug him to his feet and leaned him against the wall. "We are about to land. It would be best if you are awake to keep them from shooting me."

"They aren't going to shoot you." Clint said weakly, leaning heavily on the wall. "Unless that is what you wanted still?"

"Half dead and still a smart ass? That is almost impressive." She pursed her lips. "You have me backed into a corner here. If I leave, I'll be hunted down by Drakov's men and killed…or worse. If I stay here, I am a prisoner."

"You aren't a prisoner." Clint muttered.

"Stop talking before you kill yourself." Natasha finally said. They rode in silence for several minutes before she felt the chopper began to descend. It touched the ground and shook slightly, causing pain to flare in Natasha's leg. Coulson appeared and wrapped an arm around Clint's shoulders, steering him towards the door.

"Come on, let's go get you patched up. It'd be best if you followed us." He threw back over his shoulder to Natasha. "Stay close."

.

.

.

Natasha leaned against the wall of the infirmary, her eyes focusing anything but the man that laid on the table before her. He was propped up slightly, his arm now bandaged with gauze and white cloth wraps. Natasha had watched as they gave him thirty stiches, sewing shut the shredded skin of his forearm. Miraculously the dog had missed anything vital, such as muscles and tendons, but he had shredded the fleshier part of Clint's forearm. Once he was sewed up they had given him several shots for good measure and now it was a waiting game for the anesthesia to wear off so they could leave.

She dropped her gaze and studied her bandages leg, trying to sort through the thoughts in her head. Worried was the wrong word, but Natasha had felt a sense of unease as the Doctors had worked on Clint. Her fate seemed to be tied to his now and she had no idea what would have happened to her if she died. Would they have taken her captive? Kicked her out? That thought made her shiver. If she was out on her own, Drakov's men would hunt her down before she even had time to formulate a plan. She'd put up a good fight, give them a run for her money, but in the end she'd be overwhelmed by shear numbers alone. And then what? He'd torture her, there was no doubt about that. It was the how that made her shiver. She heard Clint groaned and her head snapped up as she was yanked from her thoughts. Their eyes met for just a moment before she looked away, crossing her arms over her body.

"Guess that didn't shoot you, huh?" He asked, using his free hand to rub at his eyes. He looked at his arm that rested in a sling and winced. "Great. Won't be shooting any time soon." He grumbled. He sat up and steadied himself before swinging his legs off the bed. He stood up and swayed slightly, grasping the top of the table for support.

"Thirty stitches." She said matter-of-factly. "Missed anything important, just made your arm look like lunch meat."

"Good deal." Clint shook his head. "I see they took care of your leg."

"No, I took care of my leg. The surgeon who touched me got kicked in the nuts." She scowled. "I do not like to be touched."

"So I've noticed." He chuckled, leaning against the frame of the table. "So, did Coulson talk to you any?"

"Define talk, more like cowered."

"Yeah, he doesn't handle surprises very well." Clint grinned. "And I'd wager you were definitely a surprise. I was sent to kill you and instead I brought you home like a stray puppy."

"He didn't seem all that surprised, honestly."

"What can I say, I have a reputation for breaking the rules." Clint shrugged. "He is a good man, he puts up with a lot of shit from a lot of people, myself included, but he has a good heart and wants to help others."

"How noble."

"Do you just automatically dislike everyone?"

"As a general rule, yes."

"Fair enough." He shrugged.

"What is going to happen to me?" She said after a pause, her voice void of any emotion.

"Whatever you want to happen to you." He sat back down on the bed. "You could walk away right now if you wanted to, but we both know how that would end." He frowned. "And I personally would hate to see it end that way."

"What would you care?" She muttered.

"Option two is that I know people."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I could get you out of here and get you off the grid. A new name, a new life, a new identity. You could try to live a normal life, try to pretend like none of this ever happened, but I have a feeling that wouldn't suit you very well."

"Stop pretending to know me." She snapped, irritated that he was right. "What is the third option?"

"You can come work for S.H.I.E.L.D." Natasha laughed in disbelief, shaking her head. Clint raised a brow and waited for her to finish.

"You must have hit your head."

"No, my head is fine. I am being serious."

"You really are a fool. I am a foreign assassin who has personally killed one of your agents. I have killed prime ministers, I have hacked into several major data bases, taken out several strong military leaders. I've hacked defense files, caused mayhem in witness protection programs, and I know more than I should even be allowed to know. And you expect them to give me a job? Just like that? You are crazy!"

"No, I am smart. Look at how much you've done, how much you've accomplished. Who would turn down someone like that? Imagine if you were working for the right side?"

"And who defines what the right side is?" She snapped.

"We do. You, myself, Coulson, every person you've ever known. No one gets to define what is right and wrong except for ourselves. So you have to ask yourself, is what you have been doing wrong or right?"

"I really do not like you." Natasha scowled at him.

"Only because you know I am right." He shrugged. "I am not telling you what the right option is. I am not telling you that working for S.H.I.E.L.D is the right thing, but, I am telling you that this is a chance to start again, to start cleaning your ledger up."

"And what if I do not choose any of those options?" Her eyes locked onto his and her hand whipped to her gun. Clint moved just as fast, his hand falling to his pistol. "Just checking." She removed her hand slowly and it was several minutes before Clint relaxed.

"I do not want to have to kill you. I won't kill you. I do not believe that you are evil, or that you deserve to die. I am not Drakov, I won't force you to do anything. I will not be the one who controls you- that is something you have to learn to do for yourself." He fell silent and they stared at each other for a long time.

"How do you know your people wouldn't shoot me on sight? And you are right, I will not be controlled or ordered around. It is time for change."

"Because I won't let them." Clint said simply. "Coulson will be on your side if I am and between the two of us, we will have some pull with one of the directors. Besides, the more skilled of us are not really under S.H.I.E. control. They just pretend to own us, pretend like they tell us to do. But, I could leave right now. I could turn down any mission I wanted to, go wherever I wanted to. Look at you- I was told to kill you, but there you stand. You know why I stay here though? Why I take missions and pretend to follow orders? Because I would be terrible at sitting on the couch and doing nothing all day. Because there is a whole world out there that I haven't seen yet."

"Are you expecting me to clap after that speech?" Natasha asked sarcastically, but his words had struck a chord with her. His offer sounded too unreal to be true. A fresh start, a chance to wipe the red from her ledger? She had thought it impossible. She didn't believe in good or bad guys, right or wrong sides, but she knew that these people could not be worst than Drakov; no one could be worse than him, than the Red Room.

"I said all of that to say this: I have been you. I've stood there and listened to Coulson tell me the same things I am telling you. And I was skeptical, I was angry, I wanted to believe I did not need anyone's help. I was on a dangerous path that wasn't going to end well. I took a chance, took a big gamble, and it has paid out so far."

"You haven't been me. You know nothing about me." She said flatly. "But, I will consider what you said and talk to your people. Perhaps if they do not shoot me on sight, we might be able to work out an offer.

.

.

.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Clint yelled as he jumped between a young agent and Natasha. The minute she had stepped through the door of the helicarrier Maria Hill had drawn her gun and trained it on the Russian assassin. Natasha had responded just as quickly, drawing her own gun and resulting in a stand off. Natasha gave Clint a told-you-so look and he scowled at the two of them.

"Barton, that is-"

"The Black Widow, I know. Can we please put the guns down ladies?"

"What in the hell is she doing here? Alive?" Hill demanded, her eyes flicking to Clint.

"She's my guest. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot her, Maria."

"You're guest?" Hill asked in disbelief.

"She seems to have a hard time hearing." Natasha said in annoyance, holstering her pistol and staring the other agent down as she continued pointing her gun at her. "Are you going to shoot me or just stand there?"

"Yes, my guest." Clint reached out and snatched the gun from her. He shoved it back into her holster and stepped away, scowling at her. "Last I checked, what I did and did not do did not concern you. So please, don't shoot anyone and get out of the way please."

"You make more problems than you solve." Hill snarled at him. "Grab my gun again and what you do will concern me." She shouldered past him, shoulder checking him. Clint watched her retreating back and shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"Scorned lover?" Natasha raised a brow.

"Ha, no. I got offered a position that she should have got. I turned it down, but she is still a little sore over the subject." Clint shrugged and adjusted his sling. "Come on."

"Barton." Coulson pushed himself off the wall and held a hand out. Clint shook it with his good hand.

"Hey Phil."

"How's the arm?"

"Sore as hell, but I am alive." Clint chuckled. "I did what you asked- we hung out in the hanger for a few hours. Any luck?"

"I talked to Fury…but, this is a difficult situation."

"Is it?" Clint frowned. "You pulled strings for me."

"That was different."

"How? Because I wasn't a wanted Russian assassin? I was a criminal and a self proclaimed vigilante working for the wrong people. It can't be that different."

"You know the entire situation was different because of your brother. He-"

"Don't." Clint bit the word off so angrily that Natasha looked at him, a brow raised. "Do not bring him into this." His blue eyes darkened and his voice held pure venom.

"I am sorry." Coulson dropped his gaze. "You know what I mean though."

"I know." Clint sighed. "Look, surely that is something you can do? You know it will be a lot less messier if you can arrange things. We both know that my way of negotiating just pisses everyone off."

"You aren't wrong about that." Coulson muttered darkly.

"Sorry for snapping at you, Phil." Clint reached out and clasped his shoulder. "You've saved my ass from some tough situations, but Barney is sore subject still."

"I understand." Coulson shifted his attention to Natasha. "I, uh, behaved badly on the chopper. I apologize. Phil Coulson." He offered her a hand to shake but she crossed her arms and stared at him.

"Romanoff."

"Pleasure to meet you." He moved his hand into his pocket. "I'll keep working on Fury and the directors. We have nearly ten hours before we make it back to home base. Take some time to rest and figure out a good excuse for yourself- you know Fury will expect one."

"Thanks Phil."

"Yeah, don't mention it." Coulson sighed. "It is probably best if you two lay low for a while. The meeting room is empty. You might hang out there for a while."

"Right." Clint sighed and motioned for Natasha to follow him. He led he way down the hall towards the meeting room, dreading the next several hours. The last two had been spent sitting in the hangar together and she had done nothing but glare at him the entire time. Any attempts at small talk had been ignored and he finally busied himself with cleaning his bow. Now there would be no distractions, no escape from her unexplained anger. It was going to be a long trip back to base.


	4. Chapter 4

Hectic was the only world that could even come close to summarizing the last forty-eight hours. Natasha had been escorted by Barton and Coulson back to "home base" as they called it. Upon arrival she had met one of the directors, Nick Fury. He was surprisingly calm about her being there and they'd had a long talk. He did not pry for personal details, but he demanded answers about the agent she had killed and everything that had happened since she met Clint. She hadn't minded those questions- those were business. He took no shit from her and she found that she did not dislike him nearly as much as the others. Fury had offered her a trial period, strings attached of course.

Her next several hours had been spent with a shrewd agent with a combover. Natasha had decided that she disliked him more than anyone she had ever met. His job was to official debrief her and Clint, but he pried and kept asking questions that were irrelevant. Clint was obviously used to dealing with him, but Natasha had quickly lost patience with it. She began to feed him sarcastic answers or nothing at all and the entire process dragged on far longer than it should have. The man finally gave up and settled for the information he had before sending them on their way.

Clint had been escorted away to have his arm checked out by S.H.I.E. finest and Natasha had been led away to a relatively empty wing of the base. She was shown her new room, given a fresh set of clothes, and was told to stay put until further notice. She stole a quick shower before laying in the darkness, her mind reeling with everything that had been happening. The silence and loneliness welcomed her with opened arms and she had nodded off quickly, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

Her rest was short lived as an agent had knocked on her door only a short while after she had fallen asleep. A timid woman had sat down to take some information from her, working out the details of her name, date of birth, and new credentials such as a social security numbers. The woman was obviously scared of her and had finished her work fast. She told Natasha that she would be fetched in the morning and to stay put for the night, which Natasha gladly obliged to do.

The next morning Natasha had been whisked away to the training center where her skills had been evaluated. She passed everything with ease, excelling in hand-to-hand combat, firearms, and strategic areas. Her pistol, which had been confiscated upon her arrival, had been returned to her after the testing and she had been dismissed to do whatever she wanted to for the remainder of the day. Coulson had talked to her briefly, encouraging her to familiarize herself with the base, but she opted against it. The states, the whispers, it was all too much. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She had retreated to her room and fallen asleep quickly, her nightmares alluding her for a change.

It was early in the morning on the third day when Natasha heard a banging on her door. She groaned and rolled onto her back, running a hand across her face. She got a glance at the alarm clock and rolled onto her side before closing her eyes. It was barely eight- she was going to ignore whoever was at the door. She curled into a ball and pulled the blanket back over her shoulders, trying to find the sleep that had just held her so tightly. Another series of raps on the door broke the silence and she sighed heavily.

"Who is it?" She snapped irritably.

"Barton. What're you doing?"

"Ugh." Natasha made a face and pulled her pillow over her face. It was too early to have to deal with anyone, let alone him. She had decided that she did not like him, although the lack of a reason ate away at her conscious. Never before had she cared about _why_ she didn't like someone, but now she find herself trying to justify the need to dislike him. Since she could not find a legitimate reason, so she blamed it on the fact that he had been too cowardly to kill her and that she felt indebted to him for her new life. Whatever the real reason was, she wasn't ready to deal with his presence.

"Helloooo?" He drew the last syllable out and rapped on the door. "Rise and shine sleeping beauty."

"Go away." She called back.

"Can I come in?"

"Are you deaf?"

"Oh, come on Na-tash-a." He drug each syllable of her name out in a sing song voice. Natasha rolled out of bed and ripped the door open, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Where'd you hear that from?"

"I didn't hear it anywhere. I read your file."

"That is confidential."

"So are a lot of things." Clint shrugged. "Romanoff just seemed so…meh!" He gestured dramatically.

"Do not use my name." She snapped, crossing her arms as a wave of cold air hit her from the hall. She watched as Clint looked her over and raised a brow. She was reminded of the fact that she had just rolled out of bed in her pajamas, which consisted of a pair of Nike shorts she had bought yesterday and a tank top. Her irritation with him grew and she considered stabbing him.

"Fine, Romanoff." He mangled her last name in a way she did not think possible.

"What in the hell do you want?" Natasha demanded, then decided she didn't care. She went to slam the door in his face but his lashed out to stop the door. She suddenly noticed that he was no longer in a sling and that his bandages were gone. No sign of the dog attacked remained on his arm except several red spots and curiosity gnawed at Natasha. She hadn't seen him since the day before yesterday, but no one healed that quickly.

"My sparring Barton bailed on me…again. I think he is tired of getting his ass whupped. No one else was willing to help me out, so I thought perhaps you might like to step in."

"Sparring?" She raised a brow. "What about your arm?"

"Oh, this?" Clint raised his arm and grinned. "They have a fancy new neuron accelerator down in the lab. A couple of hours with the doc and I was good as new." He opened and closed his first, the muscles in his forearm rippling.

"How nice." Natasha said in a bored tone, but she had to admit to herself that the concept was fascinating.

"Indeed." Clint leaned against the door frame. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Would you like to take a swing at me?"

"More than you'll ever know." She said evenly, ignoring the real question.

"Aw, you scared?"

"You wish." Her eyes narrowed.

"Come on, just once. There aren't many people around here who can keep up with me. I figured you'll at least give me a run for my money."

"Oh, is that what you think?" She shifted her weight and looked him over once, calculating. "So, you are asking me to kick your ass?"

"I am asking you to try." He grinned.

"Oh, you are on pretty boy."

"You think I am pretty?" He smirked at her. Natasha just rolled her eyes and then smiled, suddenly realizing that she was about to have him exactly where she wanted him him and there would be no one to stop her from hitting him.

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't be late."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"You actually showed up." Clint grinned as Natasha entered the room. She didn't say anything as she looked him over, sizing him up. He was wearing a the same black tank top that she was, a silver S.H.I.E.L.D logo near his right shoulder, and a pair of black athletic shorts. His hair was not longer gelled but fell loosely over his forehead in a messy peak. He raised a brow and held his arms out with a grin.

"Well? Think you can take me?"

"Undoubtedly." Natasha turned away from him and grabbed the tape off the bench. She began wrapping her hands, trying to ignore Clint as he jumped up in down in place, rolling his shoulders and punching at the air. She rolled her eyes and stood up, facing him.

"Ready?" He gave her a toothy smile.

"Are you?" She raised a brow. She slipped an elastic band off her wrist and pulled her hair into a loose pony tail. "What are the rules?"

"Don't kill each other." Clint shrugged. "No fondling either."

"I'd be more worried about the killing part."

"You sure? It'll be hard to resist not grabbing a piece of this ass." Clint spun in a circle and began bouncing up and down on his heels. His energy was obnoxious, especially considering how early it was. Natasha was not a morning person at all and she had made it a habit to avoid anyone who was.

She never answered him, but caught him eye and began moving in a slow circle. Clint's playful demeanor changed as his stance shifted and he followed her circle, his eyes locked onto hers. Their movements were eerily similar- like two panthers stalking one another. Clint knew that she was waiting for the same thing he was: his opponent to make a move. Several minutes passed in silence and then Natasha moved fast as a snake, lunging forward and whipping the flat of her palm towards his temple. Clint barely had time to catch the blow on his forearm and he countered her by grabbing her arm and twisting it around. Natasha swung a leg up and kicked off his chest, doing a backflip and freeing her arm. They yanked apart for a moment, a look of surprise on Clint's face.

Natasha went on the attack, her hands flying as she rained blows at his arms and chin. Clint managed to counter most of them and landed several counterblows himself. Natasha's chest began rising and falling more rapidly, sweat forming on her brow. Clint swiped his leg out towards her and she dropped to a crouch, catching it in both hands. She rolled forward and used his momentum against him to flip him onto the mat. He landed on his back with a thud, momentarily dazed. Natasha moved into to put him in a choke hold but rolled out of the way and lashed out with his leg, knocking her on her butt. and countered with a punch. It connected with his jaw and Clint was glad they were pulling punches, otherwise she would have knocked him out. Clint feigned a punch to her stomach before sweeping his leg out at the last minute, aiming for the back of her knees. Natasha rolled her eyes as she caught his leg, flipping him over. He landed on the mat with a grunt, a look of surprise in his eyes as she advanced towards him, determined to get him in a choke hold. He managed to block her with his knees and pushed her away before rolling to his feet, the fight continuing. He felt her fist connect with his jaw and stars danced in his eyes; if they hadn't been pulling punches he would have been knocked out. He counted with a jab of his elbow to her stomach and he heard her suck in a sharp breath. He tried to climb to his feet but she tackled him back to the mat. They wrestled for several minutes until both were breathing heavily and tiring. Neither of them had gained the upper hand as they were uncannily matched in skill. Clint grabbed at Natasha's hair and she had just bit his forearm when someone yelled at them.

"Enough!" Coulson yelled from beside the mat, breaking the bubble that they had become absorbed in. Natasha jerked away from Clint's grasp and climbed to her feet, chest heaving. Clint groaned and pushed himself to his knees and then stood up, wiping his forearm across his sweaty face.

"That was spectacular!" Coulson grinned at them, but Clint's eyes were on Natasha. She was the first person that he hadn't been able to pin in ages and the fact that she had him almost pinned several times left him in amazement. "I've never seen anything like that! If I didn't stop you two you were going to kill each other."

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction." Natasha shoved a snarled tress of hair behind her ear, her eyes still on Clint. Her thoughts were similar to his; how long had it been since someone had the upper hand on her? She had been controlled out of fear and sheer numbers, not by brute strength. She was by far the most skilled fighter within Drakov's ring and she had easily defeated all of her opponents. But this man…she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had actually decided to try to kill her in Russia.

"I hurt you." Clint frowned, spotting several bruises that were forming on her arm already.

"You aren't the only one." She eyed the bruise on his chin. "I'll give."

"That was…different." He said at last. "I've never met anyone I couldn't pin."

"Again, you aren't the only one." She took a step forward, her eyes searching his face. Clint watched her, his heart still pounding, as he tried to figure out what she was doing. She moved close to him until they were nose to nose. He was transfixed by her gaze as she titled her head slightly, her warm breath sending goosebumps down his arms. All of a sudden her leg lashed out and hit him in the back of the knees. He fell to the mat with a thud and she pushed her foot into his shoulder, forcing him onto his back. He groaned as he looked up at her and she crossed her arms, keeping her foot on his shoulder.

"That doesn't count you know." Clint muttered.

"The fight is never over until your opponent is finished." She said simply.

"It doesn't count." He said again.

"Then I guess we are due for a re-match. Same time tomorrow?" She raised a brow, knowing that he would accept the challenge. A slow smile stretched across Clint's face and Natasha pulled her foot away.

"I don't know. My sparring partner might decide to show up."

"I highly doubt your sparring partner is even remotely close to your level."

"Then I'll be here." Natasha just nodded and walked away, unwrapping her hands as she went. Clint watched her retreating back and chuckled, shaking his head. She might not talk to him, but she would fight him, and that was at least a start.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few months on the base seemed to fly by as everyone remained busy. Clint and Natasha were not allowed to leave on any missions, much to Clint's annoyance, but there were plenty of other things to keep them occupied. Coulson always had cleaning or paperwork that needed to be done, and training never ceased of course. After their initial sparing session the two agents had made it a habit to train together every morning. Their fights had become something of legend around the base and the younger agents often snuck in to watch the two assassins fight. Their fights were more like a work of art; their movements were harmonious and effortless, every fight was different. The sessions left both agents at peak physical condition and they were both chomping at the bit to get out of the base.

Clint find himself looking forward to their daily sparing sessions because it was the only way that Natasha seemed to acknowledge him. He didn't except her to be his friend, or to even be grateful to him, but he at least thought they would be civil towards one another. Instead, she was cold and cut off, going out of her way to avoid him. Any time spent outside of the training sessions together was spent bickering and getting into arguments that erupted without notice. Clint tried to get her to talk to him, but he'd ask what he believed to be a harmless question and she'd nearly rip his head off, leaving them back at square one.

Today happened to be one of those days. Clint followed Natasha towards the cafeteria, glaring at her back. His hand ran over his chin where she had punched him after he had asked a question about her parents. He couldn't even remember the conversation they were having, but it was a harmless question and hadn't pried it all. Natasha had taken it the complete opposite way and slugged him before storming out of the training center. Clint had followed her out of sheer stubbornness, refusing to allow her to walk away from him after punching him. Part of him wondered why he even bothered; people tended to naturally flock to his friendly personality, but he didn't have friends- he didn't need them. But, something about Natasha reminded him of himself and his curiosity kept getting the better of himself. And he could not walk away from a challenge, even if that challenge had a tendency to be moody and throw punches at him.

"What?" Natasha snapped as she heard Clint sigh. She spun around and faced him, her arms folding across her chest."

"What?" Clint's brow furrowed. "I can't breath?"

"Preferably not." She scowled at him.

"Geez, didn't see that coming." He replied sarcastically. "Stop looking at me like that. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you're face could get stuck like that?"

"Do you EVER shut up?" She snapped, taking a step towards him. Clint didn't shy away, rather he stepped forward until they were nose to nose. Her green eyes bore into him, seething with anger, but Clint did not back away.

"What in the hell is your problem?" Clint demanded. "What did I ever fucking do to you?" He was beginning to lose his temper, something that was a rare occasion for Clint. He prided himself on his self control and cool demeanor, but Natasha was grating at his nerves.

"Not a damn thing!" Natasha half-yelled at him.

"Oh, that makes perfect sense!" He replied just as harshly. "Then why do you feel the need the jump down my throat all the time?"

"Because I can!" Natasha shoved his shoulder and moved to turn away from him, but Clint caught her arm. Despite his anger his touch was soft and not aggressive at all. That made her angrier and she balled her first, her eyes flashing. "Stop touching me."

"Stop hitting me and walking away then!"

"Get your hands off me!"

"Look, Nat, let's-"

"Do not call me that." She bit off every word and shoved his chest hard. Clint snarled at her and stepped towards her.

"You wanting to pick up where we left off Red? Because I will pin you down in this hallway."

"Go ahead and try!" She snapped.

"Woah! Hey!" Coulson came running down the hall, tie trailing out behind him. He jumped between the two of them and looked between them

"Do you?" Clint countered, turning to glare at her. "What in the hell did I do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you jumping down my throat all the time!?"

"Because I can!"

"That is a great reason, Nat," he rolled his eyes.

" . .that." She hissed before taking a swing at him. Clint barely had time to duck before jumping away, glaring at her.

"Really red? You want to try that again?"

"Maybe I do," she glared back. "Scared?"

"Like hell. Come on then." He took a step towards her.

"Woah! Hey!" Coulson yelled as he ran down the hall towards them, his tie trailing out behind him. "Knock it off you two!" He got between them and held his hands out, scolding both of them.

"Don't get into this Phil, move."

"Shut up Barton."

"Finally, someone with some sense." Natasha snapped.

"Shut up Romanoff."

"Don't talk to me-"

"Enough!" Coulson's face went red. "You two are worst than rookies! This is the third time this week!"

"It is her fault!"

"Only because you are an idiot!"

"You are both idiots!" Coulson snapped. "I've never met two people as hard headed, ill-tempered, and obnoxious as the two of you! The ridiculous part is how talented the two of you are!" He threw his hands up in disbelief and then his brows rose, an idea suddenly striking him.

"I'm done with that." Natasha rolled her eyes.

"The hell you are. Both of you get your asses back to your rooms. I need to speak to Fury. And so help me- if I find out that either of you left, I will personally shoot you, do you hear me?" Both agents muttered something and turned in opposite directions, skulking away from one another. Coulson realized several people were watching him so he cleared his throat and straightened his tie. Those two were worst than caged dogs and he'd had enough. It was time to talk to Fury.

.

.

.

Clint frowned as he rounded the corner and saw Natasha leaning against the wall. Her arms were crossed and she was scowling at the ground. Clint considered turning around and going back to his room, but Coulson had paged him down to the conference room and he wasn't sure he wanted to cross his handler after their little spat earlier. Natasha looked up as she saw him approaching and she made a face.

"What are you doing here?" She snapped.

"I could ask you the same thing." He glared at her. It had only been a few hours since their argument and they were obviously still pissed at one another.

"Coulson called me and told me to come down here for a briefing."

"No, Coulson called me."

"Actually I called you both." Coulson cut in as he opened the door to the conference room. "Come on inside. Both of you." He watched as they moved past him and into the room. They sat on opposite sides of sides of the table, shooting daggers at each other, and Coulson couldn't help but wonder if they were kicking at each other underneath the table.

"As you both probably have heard by now, half the base is aware of your little…dispute…in the hallway with morning. I spoke to Fury and he told me it was my problem to fix since I am your handler, lucky me. Thankfully, I already had a punishment in mind and he agreed with it." Natasha bristled but Clint just rolled his eyes.

"No one is going to drug you or torture you here. Relax."

"Just shut up." She snapped.

"What are we doing? Scrubbing toilets? Cleaning boots?"

"Oh no." Coulson smiled. "Since the two of you can not be left alone without killing one another, we are sending you away on a mission." That caught their attention. Both of them leaned forward in their seats and focused on Coulson. He knew that they were both dying to get off of base and back out into the world, but he had something special in mind, something that they would not see coming. He couldn't help but smile and he cleared his throat, waving a packet in the air.

"You will be going to Paris first thing in the morning. Some of our friendlies have run into a spot of trouble with some local rebel leaders. They have gained a strong foothold in the area and they need to be taken out as quickly and quietly as possible. So, with that being said, there is a party that is being thrown by a nobleman in the area. He is rather wealthy and has been an outspoken supporter of these rebels, so we expect several high value targets to be there. This is a stealth mission and you will be attending the ball undercover. We have prepared identities for you and have arranged a stay at a local hotel. If your cover is blown, you are to extract yourself immediately. If they find out that we are involved, things could get messy. Understood?"

"Sounds straight forward enough, but you said identities?"

"Yes, you will be going together."

"What?" That asked in unison.

"You heard me. You'll be going undercover as a married French couple that has contributed a nice sum of money to the rebellion. We have invitations to the party for you and everything else you could possibly need."

"Are you kidding, right?" Natasha asked in disbelief. Clint opened and closed his mouth, but he couldn't find any words.

"No, I am not kidding. If you two can't get along willingly, you will be forced to. Otherwise you'll end up getting each other killed and then I guess it won't be my problem anymore."

"Coulson!"

"I don't want to hear it Barton. Fury and I both agreed that this was the best course of action. Now, go pack your bags. You're flight leaves tomorrow at nine."

"This has to be a joke." Natasha muttered to herself. She pushed away from the table and stalked out of the room, muttering in Russian the entire time. Clint sighed and leaned back in his chair, giving Coulson a long look.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Nope, but are we ever sure about anything?"

"I guess you're not wrong." Clint chuckled. "Look, Phil, I am sorry about earlier-"

"Don't worry about it. I know you do not lose your temper very often. Go get packed. And Clint, do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't get yourself killed out there." Coulson clapped him on the shoulder. Clint nodded and left the room with a sigh, grabbing the packet from his handler on the way out. Coulson leaned against the wall and hoped that they were making the right decision; they would either learn to work together or there was a good chance that they wouldn't be coming home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: darker chapter ahead. This entire story is my version of an origins story and this is how I am setting up Natasha's past so that it explains some of her behavior. More will be elaborated at a later time of course, but this is just setting the table. As always, thanks for reading :)**

Clint sighed as he thumbed through the briefing packet that he had received from Coulson. He had looked through it at least three times already, but he was trying to keep his mind off of other things, namely the woman that sat across the aisle from him. She hadn't spoken a word to him since yesterday when Coulson had briefed them. Any time they made eye contact she glared at him and he had decided that trying to make small talk wasn't worth the argument. So they had boarded the plane in silence, stored their luggage, and sat as far from each other as possible.

His eyes began to swim as he looked over the same information for the fourth time so he closed the packet and sat it aside, running a hand through his hair. He cast a glance at Natasha, but her cold body language told him all he needed to know. Clint closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest, his mind swimming with all the information he had been looking over. They had four targets and each was driven by something completely different than the next: money, sex, drugs- they were dealing with an interesting group of targets. He felt his head dip as he began to nod off. He was almost asleep when Natasha spoke so softly that he almost didn't hear her.

"We are going to have to work together." She was staring out the window. The statement held no emotion, no sign that she meant her words.

"I kind of figured that. Is that a problem?"

"I don't know…is it?" She sighed

"It could be if you always act like you're going to stab me- we are supposed to be married you know."

"And I will act accordingly once we are in Paris. Right now you are someone I do not like and I do not have to speak to you."

"Fair enough." Clint shrugged. "Why though?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you like me?"

"Because." She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. "Did you know that between the two of us, you are the most dangerous?"

"How do you figure that?"

"Because when I walk into a room, people feel my energy and they are scared of me. I make people want to leave the room, to put as much distance between us as possible. No one wants to make friends with me, no one wants to get to know me. You on the other hand: people flock to you. You walk into the room and people want to get to know you, they want to be your friend. Everything about you invites people in, makes them want to be around you. And that makes you more deadly than I am. You do not have to put on a false pretense to lure people in like I do."

"I never thought about it that way." Clint shrugged. "You're going to think I am lying, but I am a loner by nature. People like me, people want to be my friend, but I prefer to be alone, to work alone."

"Then why do you insist on trying to talk to me?"

"I dunno. Curiosity maybe? The challenge?" He shrugged.

"Well, stop."

"Why?"

"Because friends talk Clint and we aren't friends." They were quiet for a long moment before Clint spoke again.

"We could be, you know."

"What?" She looked up from her knees.

"We could be friends."

"Oh, yes. We can go flower shopping together and have sleepovers. That'll never happen Barton. We are temporary partners, nothing more."

"Whatever." Clint rolled his eyes and laid his chair back before closing his eyes again. Natasha hugged her knees to her chest and stared out at the passing clouds, her thoughts swarming in her head. Friends were something you trust and trusting people got you hurt in ways you didn't think possible. She closed her eyes as she became lost in a memory.

_Five year old Natasha sat at the kitchen table with a pink crown in her hand. Her lower lip was pulled between her teeth and her brow creased as she focused on her drawing. A Crayola colored ballerina slipper was drawn on the page, a rather impressive one for such a young child. She was almost finished coloring the ribbons when she heard a scream from upstairs. She sat her crown down and frowned, her heart pounding in her chest. Her parents argued a lot and she had learned to stay out of it a long time ago. Yelling was nothing new to her, but that scream…_

_Natasha hopped down and started towards the stairs, her Crayola slipper in hand. She climbed them slowly, pausing as several more shouts and screams came from her parents bedroom. She paused just outside the door and pressed her ear to it._

"_I told you not to shove your nose where it didn't belong!" Her father yelled and she heard something hit the floor and shattered. "You fucking meddling whore!"_

"_How could you? All of these years? How?" Her mother sobbed. "You lied to us! You've forced us to live a lie!"_

"_I tried to protect you!" He yelled. "You were never supposed to find out anything. You just couldn't trust me though, you had to go and convince yourself that there was another woman!" Natasha heard his fit hit the wall._

"_Can you blame me?" Her mother's voice rose. "You're hardly every home, you leave in the middle of the night. I find hidden phones, secret letters. What was I supposed to think?"_

"_You were supposed to stay out of it!"_

"_Stop hitting me!" Her mother screamed through a sob. Natasha's arms trembled and she took a step back from the door. "I've had it! Enough! You don't even know your own daughter. Your either too drunk or just don't care. I am tired of being your punching bag!"_

"_Where in the hell do you think you're going? Sit your ass back down!"_

"_No! Natalia and I are leaving."_

"_Like hell you are!"_

"_I am going to the police. You are a monster."_

"_A monster? You have no idea!" Natasha listened to her father's voice take on a nastier edge. _

"_Get your hands off me!"_

"_Put the fucking knife down woman!"_

"_I said let me go!" Her father roared in pain and then her mother screamed. Something heavy hit the floor and then silence filled the house. Natasha's heart pounded in her throat and she stretched a shaking hand towards the doorknob. She turned it without a sound and pushed the door open ever so slightly, pressing her eye to the crack._

_Her father was standing over her mother, a bloody knife in his hand. His right hand was clamped to his life bicep and blood seeped between his fingers. Her mother lay on the ground, an angry red blotch covering her left breast. It was spreading fast and moving over her stomach, her sides. Her father's chest was heaving and he wore a wild expression. Natasha stumbled backwards, a scream sticking in her throat. Her father whipped around on her, rage flashing in his eyes. He threw the knife aside and snatched the girl by the back of her shirt, yanking her off her feet and slinging her over his shoulder._

"_Mommy!" Natasha wailed. "Put me down! What'd you do to mommy?"_

"_The same thing I'll do to you if you don't shut your fucking mouth!" He snapped. "We are leaving this place. If you know what is good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut. Do you hear me?" He gave her a shake and Natasha whimpered. Her father started down the stairs and her eyes stayed locked onto her parent's bedroom, the image of her mother's body burned into her brain._

Natasha jerked out of the dream and sucked in a sharp breath, her hands trembling. It had been years since she had dreamt of her childhood, since she had thought of her mother's death. She ran a hand over her face and was mortified to find a trail of wetness of her check. She hastily stood up and made her way to the bathroom, ignoring Clint's grunt of surprise as she woke him by slamming the door. She whirled towards the sink and grasped the countertop with both hands. Her whole body trembled and she could feel the same panic that she had felt all of those years ago. She stared at herself in the mirror and she found herself lost in another memory from her childhood.

"_Finish him!" Drakov yelled. Thirteen year old Natasha gritted her teeth and dropped to the ground. She swept her leg out and knocked the grown man to the mat before pouncing on him, her training stick pressed against his throat. He looked at her wide eyed, astonished that a mere child had just taken him down. Drakov clapped slowly as he walked across the room, a grin spreading over his face._

"_Well done, Natalia dear. Well done. Donovac, you should be ashamed of yourself. Letting a child take you down like that." Drakov sneered at the twenty-two year old. Donovac just groaned and tried to sit up, but the girl shoved him back down with her heel. Natasha said nothing, her gaze trained on the floor. _

"_I see you're training has far surpassed my expectations. It is good to know that this pathetic group of people have actually followed instructions. I believe it is time to introduce you to the world, my dear. Your talents are being wasted here in this training facility."_

"_What do you mean?" Natasha mumbled.. Drakov wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she tensed, her body going on the defensive. Too many times had he hit her, too many times had he hurt her. Natasha's eyes were glued to his hand and he slipped a knife from his belt. He pointed it at her for a moment and sheer panic raced through her body. Her chest constricted and her breath caught in her throat. Drakov sneered at her and pressed the knife into her hand._

"_You're still pathetic, just like your mother. But we will fix that with time."_

"_I don't understand." Natasha's brow furrowed and she looked at the knife in confusion, a sense of horror growing inside her._

"_Kill him." Drakov nodded at Donovac. The man's eyes widened and he scrambled backwards._

"_What! Sir, I have been nothing but loyal to you!"_

"_Loyalty only goes so far, Donovac. Don't take this personally- it is simply for training purposes."_

"_But-" _

"_I won't." Natasha's voice was small and she trembled. "I won't do it."_

"_What'd you say?" Drakov's eyes narrowed. "You know better than to go against me, girl. I said kill him!"_

"_No!" Natasha yelled. She didn't have time to react as Drakov's hand flew out and hit her in the temple. Her knees buckled and she hit the mat kneeling as stars swam in her eyes._

"_Get up Donovac!" He snapped angrily. "I'll teach you to defy me you pathetic child! You want to act grown? Fine. We will make you a woman!" He was screaming by time he finished and Natasha cowered. "Donovac, take her to the barracks and show her what happens to grown women around here." Donovac smiled slowly, an evil light in his eyes. Natasha's scream was cut off and he grabbed the back of her shirt and began to drag her across the floor. She met Drakov's eyes and in that moment she knew that she could never trust anyone ever again. After all, if you couldn't trust your own father, who could you trust?"_

A sob tore from Natasha's throat and she sank to her knees, her forehead resting against the smooth wood of the bathroom cabinet. Tears welled in her eyes and an invisible force squeezed her chest, making it impossible to breath._She bit her lip hard, fighting off the panic attack that she felt coming on. She hadn't felt that way in years; she had thought she had everything locked away in a drawer in the depths of her mind. She heard a knock on the door and her heart thudded harder at the fear of someone seeing her like this: vulnerable, exposed, raw._

"Natasha?" Clint called.

"Go away." She tried to sound angry, but her voice was broken and choppy. She sucked in a sharp breath, trying to remember how to breath. Just as she went to stand up the plane rocked with turbulence and she fell back into the cabinet with a thud.

"I'm opening the door." Clint warned, feeling that something wasn't right. He cracked it open and paused a moment before pushing it open all the way. He took in the sight of her on the floor, her damp face, her panic filled eyes. He knew that expression, he knew the fragile look in her eyes- he had been there himself on more than one occasion. He dropped into a crouch to get on her level and looked at her face.

"Hey, look at me." He said softly. Natasha found his eyes and he held her gaze. "Breathe." He said softly. "In and out. Come on." It took several moments before Natasha was able to draw a long breath and she slowly let it back out. She repeated this several more times before her shoulders finally began to relax and the panic left her eyes. She dropped her gaze suddenly, embarrassed and angry that he had seen her in such a vulnerable state.

"What'd you need?" She muttered, wiping a hand across her damp cheek.

"We are headed into some turbulence and we need to be seated. Pilot said we are about fifteen minutes out, so we'll be landing soon." She still looked broken and he wanted to tell her it'd be okay, or touch her shoulder, but he knew better than that- he was beginning to understand that there was a reason she had walls built up around her. So instead he pushed himself to his feet and turned away from her before speaking softly.

"We all have demons that we fight…just don't let them win."

He walked way from her then, back towards his seat. Natasha watched him walk away before closing her eyes and leaning against the cabinet, allowing her head to fall back. How could she have been so weak? How'd she allow herself to get to that point? She felt a surge of self-resentment, but she pushed it aside and focused herself. They had a mission that needed to be handled. Anything else could be dealt with afterwards. She slowly pushed herself to her feet and moved back towards her seat. She paused and she met Clint's eyes, a silent understanding passing between them; he wasn't going to ask her what was wrong, he wasn't going to act like anything had happened at all. A wave of relief washed over her as she sank into her chair and buckled her seat belt. She stared out the window once more, a new thought buzzing around in her head: perhaps Clint wasn't as bad as she wanted him to be.


	7. Chapter 7

Clint climbed into the cab where Natasha and the driver were waiting and shook the water from his hair. A storm had started as their plane had touched down at the private airstrip and they had scrambled to retrieve their bags and make it to the taxi cab before becoming soaked. Natasha made a sound as the water hit her, but she didn't speak. Instead she tucked herself as close to the door as possible, her eyes trained on some point in the distance. She hadn't spoke to Clint since their encounter on the plane and he wasn't sure what to think. As soon as they got out of this taxi they were supposed to be a married couple and if she kept giving him the cold shoulder things were not going to go over well.

"You are the two American agents, I assume?" Their taxi driver spoke as he turned the cab out of the airport and onto the road.

"Depends on who is asking." Clint replied in a cool tone, instantly on guard. The cab driver chuckled and met his eyes in the mirror.

"I am not your enemy. As a matter of fact, I might be the last friendly face you see for a while. You are going into a heavily occupied rebellion zone. Danger will lurk at every corner. I worked with one of your men- a fellow named Coulson- to get your aliases set up. Under your seats you will find a wallet for each of you. They contain your new ID's, credit cards, currency- everything you will need to be comfortable during your stay here."

Clint fished around underneath his seat and he felt his fingers brush against leather. His pulled the wallet out and thumbed through it before pulling the ID out. His face was the same, but his name, date of birth, and the rest of his information had all been changed. He passed Natasha her wallet, which was slimmer and more feminine, and she took it without looking at him. She stuck it underneath her leg and turned her attention back to the cab driver.

"We are ten minutes from the hotel you will be staying at. This is the last time you will be in contact with us- I assume you've been briefed on your mission?"

"Yes." They replied in unison.

"Then you know the importance of being discreet and remaining undetected. There is no evac if your cover is blown- you'll have to fight your way out and find a way out of here. Even if your mission is successful, you'll be responsible for finding your way back. Us meeting together like this is a risk already and we will not risk more exposure than needed."

"You're asking an awful lot and not offering much in return." Clint frowned. "Especially when this is not our fight."

"Oh, if these men are not stopped it will become your fight. You know nothing, foreigner. This land is at a great place of unease and hostility right now. All it takes is one domino falling to start the chain reaction. You are here to keep that domino from falling."

"Right. No pressure then." Clint muttered. He sighed and ran a hand through hair. "Anything else we should know?"

"Not that I can think of. I'm going to put the glass up between us now. We're entering the city; I'm merely your cab driver. Understood?" Clint nodded and waited until the glass had rolled up between them before turning to Natasha.

"Are you going to be ok?"

"I'm fine." She said dryly. "I don't let my personal matters effect my work."

Clint said nothing and leaned back against the seat, watching the lit up store front's roll by. Several minutes passed before the taxi rolled to a stop in front of a multi-level hotel. The hedges in the front were trimmed to perfected and a waterfall tumbled off the roof, lit by multi-colored lights. Clint couldn't help but chuckle, remembering the last hotel he stayed at.

"What?" Natasha asked as he chuckled.

"The last place I stayed in had roaches in the bed and old moonshine in the tub. This is a nice upgrade."

"You think?" Natasha shook her head and wondered where in the world he had stayed at, but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

"Alright. Time to go play." Clint tucked his wallet into his back pocket before climbing out of the cab. He retrieved two suit cases from the trunk of the cab and sat them on a roll cart before opening Natasha's door for her. She climbed out a smile, one that would've fooled everyone, but not Clint. She laced one of her arms through his and the sudden contact surprised him. Her skin was soft and pale against his sun tanned arm.

"I can't believe we finally made it!" Natasha craned her neck up and looked at the waterfall. "How pretty."

"Not as pretty as you are." Clint smiled at her and a passerby made a face at them, muttering something about tourist.

"Let's go get checked in! I can't wait to see the room!" Her voice was sickly sweet and she was practically bubbling at his side.

"Yes ma'am." Clint grabbed the handle of the cart and pulled it along as they made their way inside, Natasha still close to him. She was smiling, hey eyes wide and innocent, and Clint remembered her sitting there telling him that he was the more dangerous of the two. Her words had made sense at the time, but now he realized that she was entirely wrong. Clint now understood just why she had been so successful in her line of work; she was a master at her craft.

"Can I help you?" A smiling young man greeted them from behind the check-in desk.

"Yes, I believe I have reservations for Simon Alouf." Clint offered him a friendly smile. "How is your day going?"

"Let me see here…ah, yes! Mr. Alouf! We have a suite room prepared for you. You'll be staying with us for only two nights? Pity. We are having a couple's night this weekend that will feature some of the finest foods and bands from around here. Could I interest you in adding on a few more nights?"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" Natasha looked at Clint, eyes pleading.

"Sorry, but you know we have two more countries to visit dear." Clint chuckled and shook his head. "We are traveling for our fifth anniversary, you know! Two whole weeks, four different countries! It has been incredible so far."

"That is fantastic." The young man smiled at them and passed Clint a keycard. "Room 315. Please, enjoy your stay. Feel free to call the desk if you need anything at all!"

"Thank you." Clint offered him one last smile and Natasha grabbed the cart, toting it towards the elevator. Clint pressed the button and they waited in silence, Natasha's arm wound through his once more. There was a ding and the door slid open, allowing them to push the cart inside. As soon as the doors closed Natasha put as much distance between herself and Clint as possible, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're lying it on awfully thick." She muttered.

"And you aren't?" Clint rolled his eyes. "You're a whole different person."

"I am working." She stated simply, turning her back to him and staring at the wooden panels of the elevator.

"I was beginning to have my doubts about your abilities. It's a good thing our cab driver was our contact or you could've blown our cover right then and there." Clint glared at her when she ignored him. "Won't you give up the strong and silent type routine? I've already seen through that bullshit."

Clint regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He was sleepy and irritated from traveling and the word's left him before he had a chance to think about them. Why did she always manage to get him riled up? No one else had a knack for making him lose his temper like she did. Natasha whirled around on him, eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. The elevator dinged and she snatched the keycard from his hand before yanking her suitcase off the cart. She marched past him and Clint scowled, pushing the cart after her. He watched as she opened the door…and then slammed it right in his face.

"Hey!" Clint protested. "Let me in!"

"No." He heard her snap through the door. "Go blow your own damn cover, you good for nothing know it all. And for the record, I never asked you to come check on me. You took that upon your virtuous self!" He heard a muffled thud as he bag hit the floor.

"Nat." He groaned, laying a hand on the door. "Come on, I didn't' mean that. You know that."

"Do I?"

"You've got to let me in."

"I don't have to do anything." Clint knocked, but silence was the only answer. He sighed and looked up and down the hall, thankful that there didn't seem to be anyone around. What was he supposed to do now? He could go down to the desk and ask for a second key, but that didn't seem wise since they had just arrived. He also wasn't entirely sure Natasha wouldn't throw something at him if he went waltzing in at the moment.

"You've really done it this time, Barton." Clint thought to himself as he sat his luggage down outside the door. He pushed the cart over to a designated area before returning to their room. He took one last look at the room before setting his suitcase against the wall and propped himself up against it, folding his legs beneath him. An older man walked by, his hair white and his mustache neatly trimmed, and gave him a long look before chuckling.

"Trouble in paradise?" He asked with a smile.

"We've just arrived actually." Clint sighed.

"You work fast son! I usually try to wait a few hours before I get the old miss riled up." The old man chuckled and Clint couldn't help but smile. "Well, want to know a little secret?"

"What's that?"

"There is a fantastic bar downstairs that sells these little crème filled things and some killer scotch. Go take some time to cool off and let her stop being angry. And then there is a gift shop right off the lobby with some pretty flowers and chocolates."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

The old man winked at him, wished him luck, and disappeared down the hall. Clint stared at the wall for a long time before allowing his chin to drop. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, deciding that he might as well try to catch a nap. Who knew when Natasha would cool off and let him back in, so he might as well make the best of his time in the hall.

.

.

.

Natasha turned over for what had to be the fifteenth time in an hour as she tried to find a comfortable position. She had bene trying to fall asleep for the last hour, but sleep alluded her. She tossed and turned, but found that no matter what she did she was not satisfied. She tried to tell herself that she was just restless, eager for the next stage of their mission, but she knew she was lying to herself. Clint was nagging at the back of her mind, keeping her awake. She had locked him out nearly two hours ago and she knew it was ridiculous, but his words had struck a nerve, which further fueled her anger; she had said far nastier things to him and he hadn't retaliated. The fact that he knew how to wind her and compromise her self control irked her.

"What was Coulson thinking?" She muttered to herself as she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "We are going to get each other killed." She thought. Her mind drifted back to the incident on the plane and she sighed before rolling out of bed. She grabbed her jeans off the floor where she had dropped them and pulled them on before moving into the entry way of the room. She flicked the lights on and stepped outside, her eyes dropping to where Clint slept.

He was slumped against the wall, his once tidy hair now rumpled with travel and sleep. His neck was craned at a funny angle, his legs tucked up underneath himself. Despite that fact that he was sleeping, he still looked worn and fatigued. She had the decency to feel a twinge of guilt over the whole situation, but her stubbornness kept her from recognizing it. She reached over with her bare foot and prodded his knee.

"Hey, wake up." She said softly. Clint didn't move. She prodded him again before reaching down to touch his shoulder. "Come on Simon." She said the name a bit sarcastically. Clint groaned and his chin dipped before his head snapped up, his eyes opening. He groaned and reached for his neck as the muscles contracted painfully.

"Ugh, what?" He rubbed at his eyes.

"I, uh, thought you'd might like to come inside."

"Oh, did you now?" Clint's eyes narrowed and she saw a brief flash of irritation, but then it was gone. He tried to get to his feet and stumbled, catching himself against the wall. "Shit, my legs are asleep." He muttered, shaking one leg then the other. Natasha grabbed his suitcase from the wall and set it inside the door, moving aside so he could enter. She thought of the plane, of the way he had sat with her, and she sighed. She needed to make things right, but how? She did not want to be in debt like that.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he let the door fall shut behind him. He brushed past her and went straight to the couch. He pulled the blanket off the back, wrapped it around him, and then fell into the couch face first. He kicked his legs over the arm of the couch and tucked an arm beneath his head, the other dangling to the floor. Natasha stared at him, trying to think of what to say.

"Good night." She finally said, turning away from him. She couldn't make herself say sorry, she couldn't find the words she needed.

"Hey, Nat?" She heard him mumble sleepily just as she went to shut her door.

"Hmm?" She paused.

"I am sorry for what I said…it was a shitty thing to do. I'm not holding that against you, ok? Like I said, I get it. I've been there." She didn't say anything for several moments.

"I…shouldn't have locked you out." Clint chuckled and rolled over to face her.

"You know an old man stopped to talk to me in the hall? Was giving me crap about how fast I had a knack for pissing my wife off? He told me he just thought he was a professional at it." A ghost of a smile touched Natasha's lips and she turned away from.

"At least someone around here understands. Good night, Clint." She shut the door, locking herself in the dark room and creating a barrier between them once more.

.

.

.

.

"You hungry?" Clint called as he heard the bathroom door open. Natasha emerged, running a towel through her hair, and gave him a once over. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and he had a dish towel tucked into his waist band. He was standing in front of the room's stove and the smell of eggs and bacon filled the room. Her brows rose and she stared at Clint in disbelief.

"What in the world are you doing?" She asked, tossing her towel over the back of a chair.

"Cooking breakfast. What else would I be doing?"

"Do you always have to strip when you cook?" She moved to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Only on Tuesdays."

"What day is it."

"Thursday." He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, that makes no sense. What's the plan for today? We have a whole day to kill." She leaned against the counter, side eyeing him.

"What'd day ever do to you?" Clint laughed as Natasha pulled a face as his cheesy joke.

"You're in an awfully good mood today." She observed.

"And so are you. You haven't told me I was stupid once. And you are standing there talking to me instead of skulking off."

"Yeah, well, you're like a stray dog. You eventually accept its presence and learn to live with it." The truth was that she decided life would be a lot easier if the could at least be civil with one another. She knew that she was a big part of the problem, so she had challenged herself to be more patient with him. She had to admit that he wasn't totally obnoxious when they weren't fighting.

"So we aren't getting a divorce?" Clint chuckled and slid two eggs and several slices of bacon onto a plate. He passed it to Natasha before making his own plate. He hopped up onto the counter and grabbed his own cup of coffee, taking a long drink.

"Not until after the ball." She rolled her eyes and took a bite of egg. "Huh, impressive."

"You doubted my cooking abilities?"

"I doubt a lot of things about you." She pursed her lips. "Can you be serious for a second? What's the plan?"

"Do you always have to have a plan?" Clint juggled a piece of hot bacon in his mouth, puffing air out of his cheeks. "And I dunno, I kind of like this side of you. The not yelling, glaring, or threatening me side."

"Don't get used to it." Natasha sighed. "You really irritate me, you know?"

"I know." He grinned. "Anyways, I was thinking we could go walk around town a bit, get a lay of the land in case anything happens. I'd also like to try to ask around about these four fellows, see if we can't get a better read of them. Any objections?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Natasha shrugged. "I need to go shopping too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I saw your tux- my dress doesn't match."

"So you really are a woman?" Clint raised his brows and sat his dishes in the sink. "I'll be damned."

"Oh, shut up." Natasha threw a piece of bacon at him. He snagged it out of the air and ate it in one bite, grinning at her the entire time. "I hate you."

"Duly noted. Let me go take a shower and we can get going."

"Don't drown." She called after him. Clint chuckled as he shut the bathroom door and shook his head. She was finally talking to him, and that was at least a start.


	8. Chapter 8

**Oops, super long chapter. My bad lol. Finally letting these two start to warm up to each other and it makes it really easy to get carried away with the story lol. Thanks for all the views and follows thus far :) Chapter 9 coming tomorrow and we will get a look at Clint's story!**

Clint looked at himself in the mirror that hung just inside the closet and tucked the dark purple tie down into the matching vest. He grabbed his black suit jacket and slipped it on, adjusting the purple handkerchief that was in his pocket. He smoothed his hair down one last time before moving into the entry way of the room, tucking the room's keycard into his wallet. He picked up the two invitations that lay on the table and tucked them into his pocket. He glanced at his watch and began pacing, waiting for Natasha to emerge from the bathroom. They had spent the previous day exploring the town and Clint had been sent away as Natasha shopped. He was curious about her purchases and anxious to get going before they were late.

"Hey, we are going to be late!" He called.

"Who's we?" A voice came from behind him. He spun around and took a step back. Natasha looked him up and down. "You clean up nice."

"You're one to talk." Natasha wore a silky purple dress that went to the floor. The shoulders were lacey and the back low cut. She wore a pair of silver earrings and a matching necklace, and Clint was willing to bet her heels matched too. Her hair was curlier than usual and pinned up, several stray curls framing her face. "You look stunning."

"Don't start drooling." She touched his jaw as if she was shutting his mouth. "Are you ready?"

"Very funny." Clint rolled his eyes. "Don't you know how to take a compliment?"

"I must've missed that part of my training." She countered.

"Was that a joke Miss Romanoff?"

"You tell me." There it was- that ghost of a smile again.

"Yes, I am ready."

"You have your wallet?"

"Mhm."

"And the invitations?"

"Yes dear." Clint's voice dripped with sarcasm as he touched her elbow and nudged her towards the door. "Come on, it is time to go make our grand entry." Natasha allowed him to lead her towards the door, but his words had triggered another memory that she was quickly becoming lost in.

_Fifteen year old Natasha frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. The flowing black dress felt off and out of place on her; she hadn't worn a dress since before her mother was killed. That thought made her jaw hardened and she instinctively shoved it aside. Thoughts like that made you vulnerable. Thoughts like that got her punished. She stared into the eyes of her reflections. Eyes that had once been childlike and innocent were now hard and cold. They had seen too much of the dark side of men, too many of the cruel punishments Drakov had come up with. She was no longer a child. She was now an assassin, a highly trained killer, and a pawn of Drakov's Red Room. Her door opened and Drakov stepped inside, a single red rose in his hand. He offered it to her and she took it without a word, avoiding his gaze. _

"_You look stunning as always, my dear. Are you ready to make your grand entry? To reveal yourself to the world?" He laughed manically. "Too long has Ianvitch overlooked me. Too long has he scoffed at my ideas and called me an extremist. Tonight is the night he dies. Tonight is the night that the Red Room becomes more than an underground organization!" Natasha said nothing, staring at the floor._

_Somewhere in the back of her mind she could overpower him, if she could use the very things he had taught her against him. How satisfying would it be to pin him down and break his neck? To break his hold over her? But then where would that leave her? Even if she wouldn't be hunted down by his men, where would she go? This life was all she had known since she was a young girl. There was no one left to run to, no where left to go. This was her life now. She felt the string in her eyes and blinked hard, turning her back to the man she once called her father. Because of him, she would never know love again. Because of him, she'd never trust anyone else. _

"_Come on." Drakov touched the small of her back and pushed her towards the door__. The night was young and theirs for the taking__. _

"Hey, don't go ghost on me." Clint gave her elbow a squeeze, recognizing the look in her eyes. Her skin had gotten clammy and her expression as pained. "Natasha."

"I'm alright." Natasha sighed and shook her head, taking a shaky breath. "I'm alright." She repeated.

"We're highly trained killers that know a thousand ways to kill me a man, but memories are the one thing we can not kill."

"You say that like you're speaking from experience."

"Because I am." Clint shrugged. "You aren't the only one with a messy past, Natahsa." She looked at him for a long moment, curiosity burning through her. She was surprised to find that she wanted to know his story, she wanted to know about his past. But, she hadn't shared anything with him, so why would he share with her? She knew better than to ask.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You sure you're ok?"

"I'll be fine. Come on. We have a party to get to."

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.

Clint made sure his tie was straight as the black limousine pulled up in front of a large mansion styled home. The mansion was three stories tall and each level's windows were lit up, twinkling in the night. The soft sounds of a small orchestra floated could be heard from the opened front doors. People were making their way up the steps, some heading inside, others to stop on the large patio to greet one another and talk. All of them were dressed just as elegantly as Clint and Natasha were.

Natasha sighed as the limo driver came around and opened her door, stepping aside so that she could exit the vehicle. Clint let himself out and walked around to Natasha's said, smoothing his hair down one last time.

"Ready dear?" He asked with a smile.

"As one could ever be." She plastered on that all too convincing fake smile as she lifted the hem of her dress and stepped out of the vehicle. Clint offered her his arm and she took it without hesitation, lacing her arm through his. He could feel just a touch of resistance from her, but not anything close to what he felt in the hotel lobby when they arrived. Clint liked to think that she was finally warming up to him- they had spent a lot of time talking yesterday while they explored the town. Nothing personal of course, but they had spoken of the town's history, the surrounding country side, and several of the places they had stayed at around the area. And there had been small talk too- that of what a traveling couple would make. Overall, Clint felt like it had been the most normal day they had shared since they had met and he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she beginning to warm up to him a bit.

The two of them climbed the steps together and headed towards the opened double French doors, taking in the grounds as they went. To the left of the house a large lake sprawled across open fields that eventually turned into a lightly wooded area. To the left was a large well lit stable and riding arena. A large fountain sat bubbling in the middle of the spacious patio and they stopped to admire it like everyone else before heading towards the doors once more. A large burly man stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in black slacks and a button down, his look completed by a red tie. Neither agent missed the pistol he wore at his side. He sent a clear message: everyone who entered went through him.

"Names and invitations?" He asked gruffly.

"Simon and Veronica Alouf. And here you go." Clint fished the two silky pieces of paper from his pocket and passed them to the guard. His eyes skimmed over the paper before he nodded and passed them back to Clint.

"Go on inside. Dinner will officially start in eight. Until then, feel free to help yourself to any of the refreshments that are set out. The ballroom is opened up for dancing right now, or feel free to explore the grounds. They are rather extensive. Enjoy your visit to Sir Lammonte's estate."

"Thank you." Clint smiled at him and tucked the invitations back inside his pocket. "What do you want to do first, dear?"

"Let's go for a walk." Natasha smiled at him. "My legs are stiff from the ride here."

"Sounds like a plan. Can you recommend a quiet place we might enjoy walking about?"

"Um, the stables are always empty. These high brows do not enjoy the smell. But, if you can stomach the smell it is a quiet place and out of the way." The guard shrugged. Clint thanked him before slipping an arm around Natasha's waist and led her down the stairs and towards a path that led to the stables.

"Well, we have almost an hour to kill before dinner." Clint finally said once they were out of ear shot from everyone else. "I figure it will be easiest to find our targets once everyone is seated from dinner and then we can work from them."

"Sounds like a plan." Natasha sighed as Clint removed his arm from her waist and slid his hand into hers. They were alone for now, but it was best to keep up the pretense just in case someone else wandered by.

"I wouldn't mind being a horse if I lived in a place like this." Clint chuckled and ran a hand over the marble gate that was a stall front. "Classical music, marble stalls, expensive bedding, and none of them look like they ever miss a meal."

"Well, you're halfway there."

"What do you mean?"

"You have the horse's ass down pretty well." The corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, look at you. You have jokes huh?" He bumped his hip against hers and she rolled her eyes.

"You're starting to rub off on me I think." She wrinkled her nose.

"At least you don't act like you hate me all the time now." He shrugged. "Four days ago you were ready to kill me."

"I don't hate you." Natasha sighed. "I just keep people at a distance for a reason."

"I understand." Clint said softly. "You can trust me though, you know? I know you don't want to. I know you won't. But you can, just so you know."

"Do you trust me?" She turned her attention to a black horse that poked his head over the gate. He nudged her in the chest and she ran a hand down his face.

"Yeah, actually, I do."

"Why?"

"I dunno. " Clint leaned against a stable front and watched as Natasha brushed her hand along the horses jaw. "Just a gut feeling. Maybe because you remind me of myself."

"You keep saying that and I keep telling you that you don't know me." She turned to face him, leaning on the gate opposite of his. "So what makes you say that?"

"You'll see in time." He smiled and she sighed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

"Why a bow?"

"Of all the questions you could ask, that is what is keeping you up at night?" He teased.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"You're not going to believe me."

"Let me guess- you were abandoned in the forest as a child. You had to learn to survive with your own wits and a crudely crafted bow."

"Nope."

"Hmm, raised by a band of traveling merry men?"

"So you do watch movies." Clint narrowed his eyes. "Good to know. What's your favorite movie?"

"This isn't about me. "

"Come on Nat. An answer for an answer."

"I don't exactly have a lot of time for movies."

"But you've always watched a few in your life time. Come on. Pleeeeease?"

"Oh, stop it." She rolled her eyes as he poked his lip out. "Don't you dare laugh at me. I will cut you."

"Yes ma'am!" Clint mock saluted her.

"The Sound of Music."

"Huh, no shit?" Clint chuckled then held his hands up. "I am not laughing at you, just surprised. A musical huh? Interesting pick. I approve."

"What about yours?"

"That'd be two answers if I answer you about the bow too."

"Fine." She shrugged.

"Don't be so serious." He plucked a strand of hay from a feeder and tossed it in her direction. "I'd have to go with Return of the King."

"Never heard of it."

"You've never watched Lord of the Rings?" Clint made a face of horror. "Oh my god, Legolas is a king among men."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"We are so having a movie night when we get home."

"You are ridiculous."

"You are deprived of quality movies!" Clint shook his head. "Anyways, back to the bow. I was in a circus-"

"Oh, you were a clown? That explains so much."

"No, I wasn't a clown." Clint made a face at her. "It was really more like a traveling group of carneys. Anyways, that was my gig- I'd ride out on a horse and do some fancy shooting. Or I'd shoot blindfolded, or do trick shooting. Something exciting like that." He shrugged. "I got really good at it. When shit hit the fan and I, uh, got mixed up with the wrong group of people it just kind of stuck with me. I prefer the control I have versus that of a gun. "

"Huh, interesting. I've never shot a bow now that I think about it."

"Really? It is a lot of fun." Clint yawned and stretched. "It is about time for dinner. I suppose we should make our way over there." Natasha nodded and they began to stroll back in the direction of the house. Natasha was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to him like that and she swore at herself for actually enjoying the conversation. She needed to keep him at a distance, needed to keep him pushed away, because she knew how easy it would be for them to be friends. On the other hand, she had come here to make a fresh start for herself. If she kept all of her old habits and stubborn ways, would it really be starting over? She sighed softly, conflicted, and Clint raised a brow, but she just shook her head slightly.

"Welcome back." The guard nodded to them. "Enjoy your stroll?"

"Yes, Thank you." Clint smiled at him. "It was a lovely spot after all."

"Glad to hear it. Go on inside and find your table, dinner will be served shortly."

They made their way through the party goers and into a large open room where several round tables were set up. The tables and chairs were covered with silky white coverings and an arrangement of flowers set in the middle of each table along with several small candles. The smell of cooked meats and seared vegetables wafted through the air and Clint's stomach rumbled in anticipation. Several couples and individuals were already seated at various tables across the room, chatting and mingling amongst themselves. A man dressed in a black tuxedo and slacks approached them, a towel draped over one arm and a clipboard in the other.

"Good evening. Do you care to be seated? Dinner will be served shortly."

"Yes please." Clint smiled.

"May I have your names? And I must say my lady, you look absolutely stunning this evening."

"Thank you." Natasha smiled pleasantly at him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Alouf."

"Ah, yes, Sir Simon and Madame Veronica. You'll be seated at table seven. Right this way please." He led them across the room to a table that had six chairs around it. Two of them were already occupied by a heavy set man and a small woman. The Butler showed them to their seats and Clint pulled Natasha's chair out for her with a smile before taking his own chair. The couple that was set their ceased their conversation and looked up with a smile.

"Good evening. It would appear that you are to be our dining guest." The woman smiled. "I am Hailie, and this is Benard."

"Pleasure to meet you. I am Simon and this is my wife Veronica." The men exchanged handshakes and the women smiles. The small talk began, ranging from anything from the weather to the grounds to the rebel forces. Clint mentioned how he had become financially involved during his travels last summer and was now contributing on a regular basis to ensure the rebel's take over of the area. The other two seats at the table remained unoccupied until after the food had been served. At last a lone man sat down at the table, neither greeting or acknowledging the others. Clint picked up a silk napkin and wiped his mouth, nudging Natasha's foot under the table. She nudged his foot back, letting him know she got the message; the man sitting next to them was Rolaf Antuan, one of their marks.

Clint went over everything he knew about this particular man. The intel they had reported that he had a nasty temper and a passion for starting trouble. He was known to regularly brawl with people, especially when he had been drinking. If Clint could bait him outside for a fight, then perhaps that would be an ideal opportunity to take him down. He met Natasha's eyes for just a moment and he realized they were on the same page when she called for another bottle of wine to be delivered to their table.

Clint decided to make his move as desert was being served. He leaned back in his chair and yawned, pulling at his tie as if it was too tight. Natasha met his eyes for a brief moment and understood the silent message; it was time. He drained the rest of the wine from his glass and set it on the table before turning his attention to Rolaf, who had spoken hardly a word as he drained glass after glass of wine. The man kept glancing across the room to a table there and motioning with his hands. His cheeks were flushed red and his pupils dilates; the alcohol had done its job well.

"I didn't realize they let commoners into this party." Clint commented as he folded his napkin and set it beside his empty glass.

"I beg your pardon?" Benard looked up from the slice of chocolate cake in front of him.

"This man here- he's been terrible dinner company. Just another alcoholic off the street." Clint watched as Rolaf's head raised and their eyes locked.

"Do you know who I am?" Rolaf asked softly and Hailie dropped her eyes, her hand moving to Benard's arm. "No, you wouldn't would you?"

"Do you know who I am?" Clint challenged. "I'm most likely the reason they could afford to offer an extra invitation to a mere common man."

"You best mind your tongue lad." Rolaf said in a cool tone. Clint pushed away from the table and stooped to brush his lips against Natasha's cheek.

"I am going to step outside dear. I need some fresh air after being seated next to our dining companion for so long." He met Rolaf's eyes once more, issuing a silent challenge.

"Ok, I'll see you in a bit." Natasha touched his face and smiled before he turned away and strode across the room. Several minutes passed in a tense silence before Rolaf shoved away from the table and started off in the same direction, his first clenched at his sides. Natasha sat back in her chair and laid her napkin on the table, a twinge of worry in her mind. She knew Clint could fight, there was no doubt about his ability, but she worried that Rolaf might have came armed with more than the concealed knife that Clint wore.

"You might want to go find your husband." Bernard said softly. "That is Rolaf Antuan. He has a rather nasty temper, especially after a few drinks. He is a legend among our resistance, but let's just say I am glad he is on our side. I do not necessarily agree with some of these…men that we have brought aboard lately. They are producing incredible results, but I fear that they will not be happy with just walking away once our cause is fulfilled."

"I see." Natasha said slowly and began to rise, but Hallie grabbed her arm.

"Don't. The grounds are large- there is a good chance they'll never run into one another. But it is not wise for a woman to roam alone here. There are worse things here than ill tempered men." The other woman said softly, dropping her gaze. "Your husband will be ok. Don't worry." Natasha just nodded and didn't say anything, her eyes watching the door and waiting for Clint's return.

.

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Clint made his way out a side door and set off towards the stables at a leisurely pace. He was stalling, giving Rolaf time to catch up. He knew he'd be trying to find him, he had saw the fire and the hunger in his eyes. Clint had issued a challenge that could not be ignored. He heard the soft but sloppy steps of a man behind him, but he acted as if he was still unware of the man's presence. He entered the stables and stopped in front of the black horse's stall. The gelding knickered in recognition and stuck his head over the gate, eager for more scratches. Clint ran his hand down the length of the horses nose and watched as the horse's ears flickered and his nostrils flared; Rolaf had entered the stable. He waited until the man was practically on top of him before turning around and crossing his arms.

"Can I help you?" He asked, feigning innocence. "Oh, it is my favorite dinner companion."

"You'll learn to keep your mouth shut, you worthless cur." Rolaf sneered. "You speak to those who could have you killed on the smallest whim. You'll learn respect." Rolaf swung at him unexpectedly and Clint didn't have time to block the blow. The man might have been wiry, but he packed a strong blow that came from years of fighting experience. Clint staggered back a step and ducked as a second blow flew in his direction. He countered by whipping his leg out and catching Rolaf in the knee. The man staggered and Clint threw a punch at his temple. Rolaf barely had time to dodge it before throwing a blow at Clint's stomach. Clint grunted and kicked out at the man, shoving him backwards. Clint grabbed him by the shoulders and they grappled, Clint slamming the man against a stall front. His mind flicked to the knife strapped to his calf, but he didn't need it. The man he was fighting might have been a killer, but Clint was a trained killer. He knew a thousand ways to kill a man.

Rolaf's mistake was trying to put Clint in a headlock. He shoved Clint and grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Clint used the man's unbalanced momentum to flip him over onto the concrete floor. He twisted around and grabbed his head before jerking it in a fluid motion. There was a soft crack and then Rolaf went slack, his body slipping to the floor. Clint straightened and wiped a hand across his face, surprised to find blood there. He sniffed and wiped his nose once more before grabbing Rolaf by the shoulders and dragging him towards an empty stall. He shoved him inside, propping him against the wall out of sight from anyone who was walking by. He might be found by a groom the next morning, but he would remain undiscovered for the time being. Clint brushed his suit off and smoothed his hair down before making his way back towards the house. The guard raised a brow as he approached and Clint smiled sheepishly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I got into a fight with the wife." Clint sighed. "Over the damn deserts, believe it or not."

"Women." The guard chuckled. "Let me guess- she thinks you need to lose weight?"

"No, I made the mistake of reminding her she was on a diet."

"You royally messed up." The guard belted out a laugh. "She'll have you sleeping on the couch for a week."

"Probably." Clint shook his head and grin. "I decided I needed some fresh air, but I'd best get back in there. If everyone starts dancing and she doesn't have a partner I'll be in even more trouble."

"You'd best hurry- the old Butler just told me they are clearing dishes."

"Right. Hopefully I won't see you again tonight." Clint laughed and the guard let him into the house. He made his way back to the dining hall and seated himself beside Natasha, smiling at her. "Turns out I needed the air more than I thought."

"You've never been able to handle your wine well." Natasha laughed and Clint noticed their two dining companions looked relieved to see his return.

"Where'd our friend go?" Clint questioned, taking a sip of water.

"He stalked off somewhere." Hallie rolled her eyes. "Don't fret over him, he is a…interesting fellow. I was telling your wife that you might be careful who you talk to around here. Not everyone is as friendly as we are."

"Dully noted." Clint stifled a yawn and watched as several people got up and made their way to the ballroom. "It would appear that it is time to dance."

"Indeed." Hallie smiled and tugged on Benard's arm, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Come on dear, you promised you'd dance at least one dance with me."

"You know I hate dancing." He grumbled, but got up and allowed the young woman to lead him away. Clint stood up and waited for Natasha to stand before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"It is a shame they support this nonsense." He said under his breath. "They seem nice enough."

"They all seem nice enough." Natasha paused and frowned as she looked at his face, touching a discolored spot on his chin. "How'd your walk go?"

"Uh, it was productive." Clint said in surprise as he saw the concerned look on her face. No one was watching them so he wondered if she was putting on an act or not. "Were you worried about me?"

"No." She rolled her eyes. "I was worried about our friend bringing a gun to a knife fight." She muttered before lacing her arm through his. "Come on, let's go dance. The night is young and we still have work to do."

"Yes ma'am." Clint smiled and led her towards the ballroom. One target was down, now there were three to go. He had to admit that he was curious to see Natasha work and he found himself ready for round two. It was going to be a night that he wouldn't soon forget.


	9. Chapter 9

"I assume you know how to dance?" Clint asked softly as they walked towards the dance floor. Natasha rolled her eyes and tucked a curl behind her ear.

"What kind of question is that? I'd be more worried about yourself."

"I can dance just fine." Clint chuckled.

He led her to the middle of the dance floor and she turned to face him. She laced her right hand through his left and rested her left on his upper left arm as he rested his free hand on her shoulder. Clint lead them into a slow dance and they began moving in a small circle, trying to keep time with each other. The technicalities were all there, but the dance still felt choppy and slow. Clint was sure it was a painful sight to watch and he chuckled suddenly.

"What?"

"This is embarrassing."

"Then stop holding back."

"Excuse me?"

"You said you can dance, so let's dance." Natasha subtly took the lead from him, increasing the speed and issuing a challenge. Clint realized that she hadn't been wrong- she was making him look good. Unwilling to let her show him up, he spun her in a circle before twirling her out. She hit the end of his arm and spun back in and Clint grinned as their movements became more fluid and harmonious. The two of them moved in perfect harmony, attracting the attention of several people around them. When the song ended several people applauded and Clint felt his ears turn red. He cleared his throat and smiled before leading Natasha towards the refreshments table, eager to get out of their self made spotlight.

"That might've been overkill."

"Where'd you learn to dance like that?"

"I, uh, Phil actually."

"Really?" She raised a brow.

"He paid a lot of money for ballroom lessons so he could take his girlfriend to them. She dumped him and he was $500 in the hole with no partner. I was a good sport…but you don't really know humility until you ballroom dance with another man." Clint chuckled and Natasha hid a smile.

"You don't happen to have a picture or video, do you?"

"You're laughing at me!"

"I am not." Natasha's smile grew. "I just find it entertaining."

"And what about you fancy pants? You clearly have some experience under your belt."

"I took ballet for several years before…never mind that. I took ballet for a long time and then I eventually trained myself on several types of dancing. It has come in handy in my line of work."

"You took ballet?" Clint nodded to himself. "I guess I can see it- you're very graceful in your movements."

"Look angry."

"Huh?"

"Look like you are mad at me." Natasha scowled at him and jerked her hand from his. Clint frowned at her and stopped walking, crossing his arms. "I'm about to get loud."

"You saw him too, huh?" Clint spoke softly but his face implied that he was speaking angrily.

"He's been watching me for a while. Time to go to work." Natasha threw her hands up and shook her head angrily. "Kiss me."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Kiss me damnit!" Clint grabbed her and moved to kiss her, completely perplexed by her request. Just before his lips could touch hers she shoved him hard in the chest and slapped his face. She pulled her blow, but it still stung and Clint stepped back, his confused expression completing the ruse all too well. "I can't stand you!" Natasha snapped loudly before whirling around and stalking away from him. Clint watched her walk away before he spun around and stalked towards an empty chair. He set down and crossed his arms, pretending to watch the dancing couples, but his eyes followed Natasha through the crowd.

Natasha made her way over to suede covered bench and set down with a sigh, dropping her head into her hands. She sniffed loudly, peeking through the edge of her palms at the man who was watching her. A large birthmark covered his right cheek and he sported a neatly trimmed moustache. He pushed himself up from his bench and walked over to her, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me, Madame." His voice was silky and smooth. "May I join you?" He gestured towards the empty space beside her. Natasha raised her head and met his eyes, smiling ever so slightly.

"Be my guest."

"You seem troubled." The man eased himself down beside her and shifted so he could face her.

"It is a long story." Natasha sighed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Don't ever get married."

"Ah, you are married? What a shame."

"I'm married in name only." Natasha frowned. "We are no longer together, but father insists that I keep his name. It is good for business or some nonsense like that." She waved her hand flippantly. "We attended this party together to save face, but I'd rather like to leave. He is a terrible partner, my toes will be sore for a week."

"You looked like you danced well together."

"I am good at covering his mistakes." Natasha said bitterly.

"He must be a foolish man to let a woman like yourself get away." He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on his breasts. "I am Pierre."

"Veronica." Natasha smiled sweetly and extended her hand. Pierre kissed her hand and held her eyes. Natasha batted her eyes at him and resisted the urge to punch this moustache from his face. She might have been good at her job, but that did not mean she enjoyed it.

"Would it be too forward to ask you to dance, Miss Veronica?"

"Not at all." She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor and they shared a dance. It was the complete opposite of her dance with Clint and her toes suffered from the man's clumsy movements and bad timing. Natasha smiled through the whole thing, brushing against Pierre at all the appropriate times. When the song ended Pierre smiled and bowed in her direction.

"I suppose that it would be rude to ask you for a second dance."

"Perhaps, but would it be too forward to suggest that we find someplace quiet?" Natasha arched a brow. Pierre smiled slowly and she held his eyes. "Dare I say there seems to be something between us? You never know what it could be unless you explore it. But, if you'd rather not, I understand." She went to turned away and he grabbed her arm, a glint in his eyes that let Natasha know he was hooked.

"No, please, don't leave. It is too forward, but that is my kind of woman. A woman that knows what she wants and goes after it is such a rare find." He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, the smell of cigars, too much cologne, and wine engulfing her. He led her through a small side door and down a long hall. They turned a corner and he pulled Natasha into an empty room. As soon as the door was shut he had her pinned against the wall, his mouth on hers. Natasha kissed him back, her hands moving to his neck, his hair, his face. Pierre bit her lip and she suppressed the urge to knee him in the groin. She put both hands on his chest and shoved suddenly, a flirtatious smile on her face.

"You've never met anyone like me." She flipped him and pinned him against the wall, her fingers nimbly unbuttoning his top two buttons. She pulled his tie off and tossed it aside, ignoring the fact that Pierre was grinding against her thigh.

"Obviously," his teeth grazed her neck. Natasha pushed him back against the wall, wagging a finger at him.

"Hold still."

"Yes ma'am." There was a hungry light in his eyes and Natasha pressed wet kisses to his neck. "I know something else you might like to kiss."

"All in good time."

Natasha grinned at him and shook her wrist ever so slightly, wigging her bracelet into place. She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes, before slapping her wrist against his neck. Her silver bracelet hummed and Pierre went stiff as electricity arced through his body. When Natasha pulled her hand away he slumped against the wall and then crumpled to the floor. Natasha wiped her arm across her mouth and spit, her nose wrinkling. She drug his body to the empty room's closet and stuffed him inside before shutting the door and straightening her dress. She stepped out of the room slowly and looked around to make sure no one had seen her before she began retracing her steps towards the ballroom. It was time to find Clint.

.

.

.

Natasha was walking past the columns that held up the second story of the mansion when someone grabbed her arm and yanked her into the shadows. Clint was standing there with his head down, his back to the ballroom. Natasha frowned and stepped into the shadows before turning to face him, unsure of what he was up to. He raised his head to meet her eyes and she knew in an instance that something was wrong. His normally cool expression was troubled and she could have swore she saw fear in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Her brow furrowed.

"We need to leave. Now."

"What? Why?"

"I'm compromised. Someone here knows me. I don't know if he has actually spotted me yet, but he is sure to recognize me."

"So let's just avoid him-"

"You don't understand." Clint cut her off, grabbing her arm. His grip was not strong and she could feel the tremble in his hand.

"Then help me understand. What's gotten into you?"

"Look, something happened to me when I was a kid," Clint began speaking low and fast, telling Natasha what he had told no one else before.

"_Barney, I'm scared." Eight year old Clint whimpered as he clung to his ten year old brother. Barney held him tight and patted his back, holding him in place so he couldn't turn around to see the horrific sight that was in front of them._

"_It's ok Clint. It's gonna be ok." Barney's voice broke and he choked on a sob. A man paced back and forth across the living room, tracking blood from one end of the room to the other. Their parent's were each tied to a chair, a pool of blood around their feet. Not even five minutes ago they had been struggling and shouting, now they were slumped and lifeless. Clint could hear the pounding of his brother's heart and he squeezed his eyes shut, his mother's screams reverberating in his mind._

"_Stop your fucking crying." The man whirled around as Clint whimpered again. "Why'd there have to be kids?" He slammed his hand into the wall. "No one told me that there would be kids. They said there'd be money, jewels, but not any fucking kids!" He waived a knife through the air and Barney pushed Clint behind him, staring at the raving man. Clint started crying and the man strode towards them._

"_Come here brat." He made a grab for Clint and Barney tackled his arm._

"_Leave him alone!" He screamed. _

"_Get off me!" The man threw a fist at Barney and punched the boy in the jaw. Barney fell to the ground, stars dancing across his vision as tears welled in his eyes._

"_Barney!" Clint screamed._

"_Shut up!" The man slapped Clint hard. "Just shut up!"_

"_Leave him alone!" Barney croaked, struggling to his hands and knees. The man kicked him hard and he crumpled to the ground with a cry._

"_I've never killed kids before, but I guess it is all the same damn thing." He muttered. "I'd better be getting a fucking bonus for this." He started towards Clint, but Barney scrambled across the room and grabbed his ankle. The man stumbled and kicked his leg loose before grabbing Barney but the shirt collar. _

"_Let me go!" Barney flailed and Clint scrambled backwards. "Run Clint! Run!"_

"_Shut the fuck up!" The man yelled. "I'm going to gut you like the squealing pig you are!" He raised his knife to Barney's stomach. Clint scrambled to his feet and ran at the man, tackling his knees from behind just as Barney bit his arm as hard as he could. The knife fell from the man's hand as he staggered and Clint scooped it up, his little hands trembling. _

"_Run Clint! Run!" Barney screamed at him again, throwing himself at the man and grappling with him. It was a futile fight as he was easily over powered. The man snatched the older boy by the throat and pinned him to the ground, his fist clenching._

"_I said shut up!" He screamed at Barney. The older boy struggled as the man strangled him and Clint watched as the fight began to leave his eyes. Clint screamed suddenly and ran at the man, dragging the knife across his right eye and cheek. The man screamed and turned Barney loose, who kicked out with all his might. His foot connected with the man's groin and he toppled over, screaming in pain as blood poured from his eye. Barney scrambled to his feet and drug Clint across the living room. He fumbled with the lock before tearing the door open and dragging his brother across the porch. _

"_Help! Help us!" He yelled as they ran across the pasture towards their neighbors fence. Barney shoved Clint underneath the barbed wire fence and crawled after him as they ran towards a tractor that was plowing nearby. The boys kept screaming, waving their hands, desperate to get the mans attention before their attacker could catch up with them. _

"And so we got away." Clint finished his story, his voice trembling. Natasha didn't say anything, her own heart pounding. His story was not so different than hers, which meant he hadn't been wrong when he told her he understood about having demons. Perhaps they weren't so different, perhaps he could be the first person to understand her. She those thoughts and remembered Coulson's words about his brother and she longed to ask what ever happened to him, but she knew that it wasn't the time.

"That is crazy." She said finally, her voice small.

"By time we stopped the man on the tractor and the police arrived, their killer was gone." Clint said softly. "They never found him. Barney and I went into the foster care program, which was a joke in itself. But that man…I swear I saw him several times after that- outside my school, outside a foster parent's house, at the store. It was like he was keeping tabs on me."

"And now he is here." Natasha deduced. "When is the last time you saw him?"

"Nearly ten years ago. I do not think he followed me here, I think it is just a terrible coincidence. When I started down a dark path, I tried to hunt him down, to kill him. But he had disappeared from the states. It would seem he found a group of friends here." Clint took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If he sees me, he'll recognize me. And that would be-"

"Bad." Natasha finished the sentence for him. "Let's get out of here then."

"Our driver won't be here for another thirty minutes."

"Then we steal a car." Natasha smirked. "Come on, let's go." She laced her arm through his and they began strolling back towards the front door. Natasha could feel how tense Clint was and she wondered how many demons he was fighting off as they walked in silence. They reached the entry room of the mansion and were headed towards the door when a figure stepped out of the shadows. His had grey hair that was slicked back and a thick beard that covered part of a jagged scar that ran from his temple across his right eye. Clint froze in his tracks and Natasha bristled, keeping her hold on his arm.

"You are the last person I ever expected to see here." The man's accent was distinctly American and unlike any of the other's they had heard throughout the evening. "But what a pleasant surprise nonetheless." He smiled cruely, his scar shifting on his brow. His right eye was pale and an empty white which gave him an unsettling appearance.

"Let us through." Natasha spoke calmly but there was a threat in her voice. "You don't want to start any trouble with us."

"And why wouldn't? I am surrounded by those who call me an ally. I do not know your business here, but it would not be hard to have you imprisoned, or to have them turn a blind eyes as I killed you. They have become so accustomed to it that I doubt they'd ask too many questions. You're awfully quiet, kid." The man sneered at Clint.

"I said let us through." Natasha scowled at him.

"How's your brother? Is his still raving mad? Has he killed himself yet?" The man laughed. "He may have gotten away from me, but he never escaped."

"Shut up!" Clint's voice was darker than Natasha had ever heard it before. There was an angry fire in his eyes, a vicious look on his face. "Just shut up!"

"Struck a nerve did I?" The man laughed and pulled a gun from inside his suit jacket. "You know of all the people I've killed, of all the lives I've ended, I've never had anyone get away except the two of your helpless whelps. I've never left a job unfinished." He pointed the gun at Clint.

"Get out of here." Clint's voice was flat as he spoke to Natasha. "Now."

"You're crazy if you think I am going to leave you here." She scowled, trying to figure out a way to get the pistol that was strapped on her thigh without alerting the man.

"Just listen for once, damnit." His voice was harsh, but Natasha didn't even flinch. She met his eyes and he got the message; she wasn't leaving.

"It would appear that you've mad a friend." The man titled his head and looked at Natasha curiously. "I think we both know there are worse things than death, isn't that right kid? Has he ever told you about what I did to his parents. What I did to his brother?"

"Shut up!" Clint practically yelled, his face flushing.

"His brother was raving mad the last time I saw him. Absolutely barmy. Seeing things that weren't there, hearing voices. He was as simplistic as a child, allowing other's to bend him to their will."

"Fuck you." Clint snarled, pulling the concealed knife out. "Fuck you." He repeated.

"Oh a knife, how cute!" The man barked a laugh and waved the gun back and forth. "Go ahead, run to me. See how far you get before I turn you into a pin cushion." The man sneered and then smiled cruelly. "I am going to break you just like your brother. And I'll start by killing her!" He whipped his gun towards Natasha. Clint barely had time to react as he dove in front of Natasha, hurling his knife at the same time. A bullet ripped into his shoulder and he landed hard against Natasha, knocking them both to the floor. His knife sunk hilt deep into the man's gun arm and he roared, his hand flying to the knife.

"Move!" Natasha yanked Clint up by the collar and practically drug him over to seating area. She ignored the suede benches and flipped over a heavy oak table, dragging him down behind it. She yanked her dress up and grabber her pistol, firing several shots at the man. He stumbled behind a large marble column and took cover there, firing several blind shots in their general direction.

"We have to get out of here." Clint muttered, his jaw clenching as he clasped a hand to his shoulder. "We're going to get over ran."

"You think I don't know that?" Natasha snapped. She whipped her sights to two guards who were running down the hall and fired two shots at them. The ducked into side rooms and Natasha reloaded her weapon. "I've only got one clip left. What's the plan?"

"This." Clint grabbed a book off the table and hurled it at window. The glass shattered and a blast of warm air flooded into the building.

"Go, I'll cover you." Natasha fired two more shots at the guards before whipping around and firing two at the man who had tried to peek out of cover. Clint wasn't in any shape to protest. He jogged over to the window and clumsily climbed out of it, his left shoulder immobilized. Natasha fired another two rounds before scrambling after him, throwing herself out the window. She hit the ground running and found that Clint was already jogging towards a red mustang that was parked near the front porch. She ran past him and yanked the door slammed her pistol into the window, breaking the glass. She unlocked the door and ignored the alarm that began to blare, yanking a panel off underneath the steering wheel. Clint climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door as yelling came drifting from the house.

"Can you get this thing running?" Clint asked, breathing heavily.

"You tell me." Natasha sat up as the engine roared to life. She threw the car in reverse and peeled away from the house, speeding down the drive way. A guard jumped out from a guard shack to black their way and she pushed the pedal to the floor board, gaining speed. He jumped out of the way at the last minute and she slammed the breaks drifting the car out onto the empty stretch of road. Clint leaned back in the seat and clutched his shoulder, blood seeping from between his fingers. His breathing was ragged and Natasha cast a worried glance at him.

"Don't look at me like that." Clint muttered. "I'll be fine."

"As soon as I find a place we are stopping."

"You know, I've been shot more times running with you than I have in my whole life."

"Are you trying to make me mad?" She raised a brow.

"No." He chuckled half-heartedly. "Just telling the truth." He closed his eyes and was quiet a moment before slamming his fist against the console of the car. "Damnit I should have killed him!"

"Clint," Natasha frowned.

"I'm so fucking pathetic." He swore at himself and raked his hand through his hair.

"Don't do that to yourself Clint." She flicked her eyes towards him. "Remember what you told me? Don't let those demons win."

Clint didn't say anything as he closed his eyes and let his head rest against the headrest. Natasha sped into the outskirts of town and found several empty warehouses. She parked in a dark alley and helped Clint out of the car. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and they stumbled along to the nearest empty building. Blood soaked through her dress and she couldn't help but worry as Clint's steps became more staggered, his breathing more labored. As soon as they were inside she flipped the deadbolt on the door and propped Clint against the wall, ripping his jacket away. She yanked his button down open, several buttons popping off and flying in random directions. Clint groaned and his head sagged as she ripped his shirt into several shreds and pressed it to the wound. After several minutes she pulled the bloody shreds away and tossed them aside, examining the wound. Thankfully the bullet hadn't gone very deep at all due to the entry angle and seemed to have missed anything vital.

Natasha tore several more strips off and pressed them into the wound before using her teeth to tear several long strips from her dress. She wrapped them as tightly as she could and tucked the end underneath part of the wrap to secure it in place before sinking against the wall next to Clint. She took her heels off and tossed them aside before laying her head against the wall and yawning. Clint's chin dipped and she watched as his chest rose and fell. He'd lost a lot of blood before she was able to dress his wound, but he'd be ok once he got some rest and some food in him. Natasha closed her eyes and was almost asleep when she felt Clint shift. He slumped lower against the wall and laid his head on her shoulder, muttering in his sleep.

"Gotta save Barney." He mumbled, his hand jerking in his sleep. Natasha hesitated before leaning her head against his as she thought about everything he had told her. As much as she hated to admit it, they had more in common than she would like to believe. And despite her hard headedness, she was finding that she enjoyed his company most of the time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had anything close to a friend, but it seemed like the world was giving her one whether she liked it or not. Now she just wondered if she could learn to trust him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Just a short filler chapter because it has been a crazy day and I am out of juice! Thanks for everyone who has read, shared, or reviewed so far! As always, thanks for reading!**

Natasha stifled a yawn as she sunk into a seat next to Clint and slipped her phone back into her pocket, glad to finally be through using it. She had made several calls in the last two hours, cashing in several favors that were owed to her. She'd found them a private plane back to the states, as well as safe transport to get said plane. She had also secured some medical supplies so that she could treat Clint and she had dressed his wounds before they boarded the plane and began the long flight back. She had just finished speaking to Coulson and had brought him up to speed on everything that had happened in Paris. Thankfully it seemed that their cover had remained in tact for the time being. He had wished them God speed on their flight home and promised to have a medical team on standby for Clint as soon as they touched down.

"Well? What's the damage?" Clint asked as she sat down.

"So far it seems that we are under the radar still. They do not know who we are or what we were doing here, so we have that going for us at least."

"Good deal." Clint yawned and ran a hand over his face. "Thanks, Nat. You saved my ass…again."

"Don't get used to it." She smiled ever so slightly. "We have several hours before we land. You should get some sleep."

"No, you should. I was passed out most of the night and you've been running around like a crazy lady trying to get us out of Paris. I won't let the plane crash if you catch some sleep."

"I dunno about that."

"Go on, take a nap. I can see it in your eyes- you're tired."

"If it will make you shut up, then fine." Natasha rolled her eyes and leaned her chair back. She closed her eyes and they were silent for several minutes before Natasha spoke suddenly. "Hey, Clint?"

"Hmm?" He asked, looking up from the notepad in his lap.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Your brother…what happened to him?"

"Ah." Clint scratched the back of his neck. "I figured that's what you wanted to know."

"Sorry, you don't have to answer."

"No, it is fine." Clint sighed. "After our parents deaths we got bounced around from foster home to foster home. Barney started getting into trouble all the time. We eventually got separated into two different homes when he turned fifteen. I ran away not too long after that and ended up traveling with the Carneys. He got mixed up with some really bad people and started taking drugs…he was really messed up. I got mixed up with the same guys trying to get him out of the situation. Long story short, I ended up at S.H.I.E.L.D and he is in a mental health institute." Clint sighed. "He isn't all the way there. Sometimes he is lucid, other times he doesn't even know who I am."

"Oh." Natasha frowned. "I'd say I am sorry, but I know that you've heard it a thousand times."

"You're not wrong about that." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Does he look like you?" Natasha wasn't sure why she was prying. She herself was a private person and had shut Clint out any time he had gotten too close to her past or personal matters, but yet she found that she was more curious about him than anyone else she had met before.

"No." Clint laughed suddenly. "Not at all." He pulled his wallet out and fished a picture out. The edges were crinkled with age and the picture was slightly faded. He offered it to Natasha and she took it gingerly. Two boys were standing in front of a large oak tree. The older of the two had his arm slung around the younger and was smiling, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. His hair was dark, almost black, and fell over his forehead in waves. He had brown eyes and was shorter, stockier than the other boy. His brother was taller and leaner than he was, although he was obviously younger. His sandy brown hair was trimmed short and was gelled up in the front. His blue eyes sparkled and he wore an all too familiar shit eating grin.

"You were a cute kid." Natasha said as she passed the picture back to him. "You don't look anything alike."

"Nah, Barney looks like our dad. I always looked like mom." Clint shrugged. "What about you? Who do you look like?" He expected her to clam up and not answer like she always did anytime he asked anything personal.

"My mom." Natasha said quietly. "I look nothing like…" She shook her head, not willing to finish that sense.

"I see." Clint nodded. "She must have been a very pretty lady." Natasha didn't say anything, but she reached into her backpack and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. She passed it to Clint who unfolded it to find that it was actually a photograph. A tall woman was leaning against the railing of a porch, a smile on her face. Her long red hair was braided and fell over her shoulder. Green eyes glistened in the sun and she had her a girl no older than two propped on her hip. The little girl was the spitting image of the woman and she was grinning broadly at the camera man, her arms wrapped around her mothers neck. Clint smiled as he studied the picture and passed it back to Natasha.

"Look at you." He grinned. "You should really smile more."

"I do smile." She frowned.

"No, you might smirk, or give me one of those fake smiles, but you don't smile very often."

"Whatever." Natasha rolled her eyes and tucked the picture back into her bag. "I'm glad I was able to get our stuff." She said suddenly. "I thought I'd finally lost it after all these years. It is the only part of my past I've hung on to." She sighed.

"Who'd ever thought a little picture could be so important." Clint sighed. "Life was a lot easier back then."

"No joke."

"In a way, I wish I'd been younger when my parents were killed. Might've made it easier to forget. Instead I try to keep those memories pushed away, but they lurk in the back of my mind. Every now and then I'll have nightmares and wake up in a cold sweat."

"It doesn't help." Natasha's jaw hardened and she looked out the plane window.

"What doesn't?"

"Being younger." Something in her voice made Clint's brow furrow and realization dawned on him.

"How old were you?"

"Maybe five?" Natasha shrugged. "Doesn't matter. No matter what they did to me, the tortures, the beatings, the hypnotic sessions- none of it could make that memory go away. I carry it with me to this day." Clint didn't say anything for a long time as he stared at her, surprised she had shared something personal with him.

"Were you an old child?" He finally asked.

"Yes. And a mistake. My father and mother never saw eye to eye- they just existed around one another. When I was born things got even tenser, but my mother stayed with him. Perhaps out of fear? Maybe to save face? I don't know actually." She sighed. "And then one day they got into a fight. I remember sitting at the kitchen table- I was drawing a ballerina slipper. I heard my mother scream like she had done so many times before, but this one sounded different. I crept upstairs and to make a long story short, my father killed her." She turned to face Clint. She didn't know why she was sharing that with him, why she was telling him things she had told no one before. She wanted to blame her fatigue, to say it was a lapse in judgement, but she knew the truth: she trusted him. Her demons had been riding on her back for years and for the first time she was shoving them in front of her, exposing them for the world to see.

"I can't even imagine." Clint said softly. "Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it isn't easy. Coulson is the only other person that knows about Barney."

"Yeah, well, that's what friends do, right? Spill their dark secrets to one another and make each other feel all warm and tingling inside?" She said sarcastically. Clint laughed and shook his head.

"And here I've been thinking it revolved around punching me, telling people to shut up, and saving someone else's ass."

"I guess there is that too." Natasha smiled slightly. "I guess it is unreasonable to fight the inevitable. Calling yourself my friend…it is dangerous."

"Trying to scare me off?" Clint raised a brow.

"No, you have tendency to run head first in to danger. That'd just be tempting you. I am just warning you."

"I'll jot that down in my diary then: note to self, Natasha bites. May or may not have rabies. Ow!" He protested as she punched him in his good shoulder.

"Shut up."

"See what I mean?" He laughed again. "Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?"

"You'd prefer I not talk to you? Can I get that in writing please? And make sure you sign it."

"Ha ha, aren't you just hilarious?" He rolled his eyes. "Go on and take a nap. You know everyone and their damn dog is going to want to talk to us once we land. And then Coulson will want to debrief us. And then-"

"I get the point." Natasha cut him off. "If anything comes up, wake me up."

"Aye aye captain." Clint saluted her and she rolled her eyes. She curled up on the seat, pulling her legs to her chest, and leaned her back against the window. Clint pulled his notepad back out and began sketching again, working on a drawing of a large tree. Natasha watched him for a long time and then her head dipped and she fell asleep, the picture of Clint and his brother still in her head.


	11. Chapter 11

**Things are about to start moving very quickly from here. This story arc will lead almost immediately into my Budapest story and from there we will start touching base with the movies! Thanks for sticking around and enjoy! **

**Several months later…**

_Natasha was sitting on the beach, her legs pulled up against the chest. Giant thunderheads rolled across the sky and she knew the storm was heading right for her, but she did not care. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark clouds and the waves lapped at her bare feet. She smiled as the smell of charged ozone filled the air and took a deep breath. There was nothing like a good storm to sooth her troubled mind. She began picking up small shells from the sand and tossed them into the water, the angry waves devouring them as quickly as she threw them. She knew it was dangerous to be out here with a storm like that blowing in, but this was the one place where she felt like she could let herself go. The ocean was already unpredictable, but the storm made it wild and uncontrollable. It bowed to no man, it could not be controlled, just like herself._

_"Nat, wake up." Clint's voice shattered her dream. She was instantly aware of the urgency and worry in his voice. She was on her feet in seconds, her hand on the pistol that hung at her side._

"What's wrong?" She demanded, grabbed a hold of a chair as the plane rocked violently. She heard a low whine and her brow furrowed as Clint jerked away from the window.

"We are under heavy fire. Our communications are down- they blasted a whole through the entire com system. The system managed to fire off a distress signal before hand, but things aren't looking good."

"How in the hell are we under fire? We are in friendly air space!"

"Friendly my ass." Clint muttered as an explosion rocked the plane. The smell of smoke and burning electronics filled the air and he swore. Clint grabbed Natasha as she staggered, the plane rocking again. "Get a parachute, now!"

"How close to Sudan are we?"

"Not close enough! We are over the northern part of the Sahara Desert right now." Clint grabbed a parachute and tossed it to Natasha. She had just began to slip it on when another explosion rocked the plane. The sound of wrenching metal wailed as Clint fell into a chair. The nose of the plane dipped and Natasha fell forward, trying to grab onto a chair. Clint snared her around the waist and pulled her into his lap, holding on to her tightly. Sirens blared throughout the plane and smoke began to fill the cabin as they hurled towards the desert below. Clint clung to his chair with one arm as he tried to keep himself seated and hold on to Natasha at the same time. He could feel her slipping as the downwards dive of the plane pulled her from his grasp. She grabbed onto the chair herself, swearing as a bag fell out of the overhead storage and hurdled past them. Another explosion hit the plane and it jerked sideways. Metal screamed and suddenly the front half of the plane was gone, flying off to the side. Clint lost his hold on Natasha and she lost her hold on the chair.

She began slipping down the aisle, fumbling for a handhold, but she couldn't find one. She craned her neck and could see the endless desert racing towards them through the gaping hole in the plane. She felt panic race through her and she desperately made a grab for the leg of a chair. This is how she was going to die. She had out witted so many people, have endured so much, and now she was going to die because of a damn plane crash. No one would find her body out there if she fell out now. She'd rot alone and in the desert, never to be found, never to be remembered.

"Nat!" Clint slid down the aisle and grabbed the chair across from hers. He grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her towards him, his grip firm. He grunted with the strain of holding on and Natasha grabbed for the chair herself, bracing herself. There was a loud crash, an explosion of sand, and then everything went black.

.

.

.

Clint's first thought as he began to regain consciousness was that he was thirsty. His mouth felt sticky and dry, his tongue practically throbbing. He became aware of the pounding in his head and he groaned softly, forcing his eyes open. The sun glared down at him and he became aware of how hot the sand was against his exposed skin. He struggled into a sitting position, his vision swimming and every fiber of his being hurting. He squinted as he tried to steady his vision and adjust to the brightness of the desert. He felt the sun beating down on his and he realized that he was shivering despite the heat. He forced himself to look area, his stomach churning. He could see the wreckage of the front half of the plane off in the distance, a black plume of smoke billowing in the air as the cockpit burned. The back half of the plane was closer to him, the ripped hull partially buried in the sand. He spied several bags strung about near the wreckage, as well as his bow case. A flock of buzzards circling overhead caught his attention and his brow furrowed, trying to figure out what they were waiting for, then he realized it was him; they were waiting for the desert to claim its next victim, their next meal.

Clint's climbed to his feet and turned around to survey the land behind him and his stomach dropped. Natasha laid crumbled on the ground, her arm pinned underneath her. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead and ran freely over her face. A vulture was hopping on the ground, squawking and trying to work up the courage to approach the body. He finally hopped close and snapped at a piece of her hair, tugging at it experimentally.

"Hey!" Clint tried to yell, the word sticking in his dry throat. He picked up a pebble and hurled it at the bird. The vulture squawked and took flight, rising to meet his brethren in the sky. Clint stumbled towards Natasha, his head pounding with every step. He didn't think he was injured, but he felt dazed from their crash landing. After what seemed like an eternity he reached Natasha and crouched beside her, pressing his fingers to her neck. For a heart stopping moment he felt nothing, but then he began to feel the weak thrum of her pulse underneath his fingers. She was alive. Relief coursed through him and he ran a hand over his face.

"Thank God. Hang in there, Nat." Clint shook his head to dispel the fogginess that hung over him. He had a lot of work to do and standing there in a daze wasn't going to get it done. He drug Natasha up over his shoulder and he made his way over to the wreckage of the plane. He laid her down in the shade and began digging through bags, trying to find anything that would be of use. He managed to scrap together two blankets, several water bottles, a box of granola bars, and a first aid kit that had been partially buried in the sand.

He moved Natasha onto the blanket and sat the supplies down next to her, but he wasn't done. He forced his way into the back of the wreckage and wrestled the tarp off of a cluster of ammo crates that were strapped to the floor. He untied the knotted ropes and drug them back outside along with the tarp and went to work. It didn't take him long to secure the tarp to the plane and stretch it out, providing them with an impromptu lean-to. Now shaded from the intensity of the sun and with supplies in hand, Clint was able to tend to Natasha. He spared a sparse amount of water to clean the wound on her head and was relieved to find that the gash was really just a nasty cut. In an ideal situation she could have used a stich or two, but nothing about their situation was ideal. He grabbed a large ace bandage from the first aid kit and pressed it over the cut before wiping his hands on his pants.

"Hey, come on. Time to wake up." Clint slapped her face lightly. "Come on Natasha." He propped her up in a sitting position and patted her cheek again. Natasha groaned and Clint cupped her cheek. Her eyes finally fluttered open and she winced as her arm throbbed. Clint eased her against the hull of the plane and she could see the relief in his eyes.

"This is a change of pace." She managed weakly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back.

"Hmm?"

"You aren't the one hurt for a change." Clint chuckled and pressed a bottle of water into her hand. She took a small sip before handing it back to him, watching as he did the same.

"How are you feeling?"

"My arm hurts, but I don't think it is broke or anything. I have a nasty headache."

"Yeah, I'd imagine you do." Clint sat down beside her. He knew there was more work to be done, but he stole a couple of moments to close his eyes and just be thankful they were alive. Their situation wasn't the best, but at least things had taken a turn for the better.

.

.

.

"You're sun burnt." Natasha watched as Clint slipped into the lean to, his shirt tucked into his pants. The two, although Natasha had contributed very little, had spent the majority of the afternoon preparing a makeshift camp of sorts. He had spent his time going back and forth between the wreckages, bringing in whatever supplies he could find. He managed to scrounge up a sleeping bag, several more water bottles, a bag of pretzels, and a package of five MREs. She had helped him empty and drag several of the ammo crates out of the plane and they had arranged them in a semi-circle around their makeshift camp just in case any unfriendly bodies happened to see the smoke from the wreckage. Clint had his bow strung and ready beneath the lean two and Natasha had her pistol nearby.

"Shocker." Clint yawned and stretched out on the blanket they had spread, lying on his stomach. He folded his arms beneath his head and closed his eyes, thankful to be out of the shade. "What's it looking like?"

"We have enough food and water for a week, maybe a little more if we go thin on eating and drinking."

"Good. I'd hope Fury would come for our asses before then. We are kinda important, aren't we?"

"Guess it depends on who you asked." She smiled, something that she was doing a lot more of these days.

"I'm pretty sure our pilot got an SOS out before we went down. Even if he didn't, they'll trace our flight path and figure it out. Until then, we have ourselves a tropical vacation." She didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone.

"Weren't you the one saying you needed a vacation two weeks ago when we were getting shot at in France?"

"Yeah, but this is not what I had in mind." He chuckled. "How's the head? And the arm?"

"Headache is almost gone, my arm is fine, just a little sore. You need to drink some water."

"Nah, I'll wait. Besides, it is already starting to get cooler. Can't you tell?"

"I noticed." Natasha sighed. "It gets cold out here at night."

"Great. At least I'll be able to sleep then."

"Oh, you're one of _those_ people."

"What?" Clint laughed.

"You can't sleep unless you are half frozen and in a state of hibernation."

"I usually can't sleep anyway. But, when I can, I prefer it to be cold."

"What do you mean you can't sleep?" She frowned at him.

"Nightmares." Clint shrugged. "Almost every night. I'm surprised you haven't noticed before, but then again I guess we haven't done a whole lot of sleeping in the same room. I can take little cat naps ok, but I never sleep for more than a couple of hours a night."

"That is crazy. How do you function?"

"Now you know why I drink so much coffee." He chuckled and rolled onto his back. "What about you? You never have nightmares?"

"No, I do. I just can't wake up." She sighed. "I sleep, even if it is a restless sleep."

"I see. You hungry?"

"Not at all." She made a face. "I can't even think about eating right now."

"Yeah, me either." He chuckled. "Just checking though."

"I can take care of myself, you know."

"Now you know how I feel whenever I get beat up."

"Difference is that you are a professional at getting banged up." She stuck her tongue out at him. Clint rolled his eyes and stood up, crossing to one of the four backpacks he had salvaged. He pulled a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from it before tossing the bag into her lap.

"I am going to take one last look around before it gets too dark and use the bathroom. You can probably find something to wear in there. If my clothes are too small for you we have other problems."

"Oh, I see how it is. You can find your bag, but not mine."

"Hey." He laughed. "It wasn't like I did it on purpose. Besides, can you imagine me running around here in a pair of your booty shorts.

"I do not own booty shorts!" Natasha threw a water bottle at him and then paused as she envisioned Clint prancing around in a pair of her workout shorts. She laughed suddenly, surprising the both of them, and her shook her head. "You're so stupid." Clint just grinned at her and slipped out of the lean-to.

"You know I'd be sexy." He threw back over his shoulder before he disappeared out of sight. Natasha rolled her eyes and began rummaging through the bag, finding a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. She changed clothes before folding her tattered jeans and tank top. She set them in a pile beside the bags and leaned against the hull of the plane, waiting for Clint to come back. After nearly an hour he reemerged wearing the clothes he had grabbed and a battery powered lantern in his hand. He set his clothes down next to Natasha's and added the lamp to their supply pile before grabbing the sleeping back and sinking to the ground next to Natasha.

"I knew I'd missed something."

"That'll come in handy. It is already dark and the sun hasn't even gone down all the way."

"A little light will be nice, but it'd be even nicer if it threw off some warmth." He sighed and laid down on his side, propping himself up an elbow so that he could look at her.

"We'll manage. Like you said, it is only for a few nights…hopefully." Clint chuckled at the tone of her voice and finally collapsed on his back with a yawn.

"I am exhausted."

"Only because you wouldn't let me help with anything." Natasha nudged his side with her foot. "Treating me like some kind of cripple."

"I mean technically you were a cripple for part of the day."

"I've been fine for the last several hours. I could've helped."

"You did help." He reminded her. "You went through all the supplies I brought in, spread a blanket for us to sit on, and-"

"Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Is it really that hard to let someone take care of you for a change?"

"Actually, yes it is." She stuck her tongue out at him and shivered as a breeze of cool air fluttered through the lean-to. Clint flipped the sleeping bag open and pulled it over himself before patting the blanket beside him.

"Come on Spidey, time to go to bed."

"Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me that." She made a face at him. She felt a tightness in her chest and she found herself worrying over the prospect of sleeping beside him. They had napped side by side on planes before, had even slept in the same room, but never side by side. She found that the thought of it scared her, although she couldn't figure out why.

"Earth to Nat. Come on." Clint punctuated his sentence with a yawn. "I won't bite. Promise."

"Whatever." She finally muttered and crawled over to him. She stretched out beside him, rolling onto her side so that her back was facing him. Clint chuckled and flipped the sleeping bag over her before turning his back to her as well. She could feel the warmth underneath the bag and she sighed softly, her eyes already heavy. All things considered, she had slept in a lot shittier situations than this.

"Good night, Nat." Clint mumbled sleepily. She could feel the rise and fall of his shoulders as his breathing slowed. The sounds of his steady breathing filled her ears and she closed her eyes, listening to the rustling of the tarp and the cries of distant desert critters. She sighed softly and found that she felt as peace despite their predicament.

"Good night, Clint." She said at last, then she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

.

.

.

Natasha inhaled deeply as she began to wake up, a pleasant smell in her nose. It was a familiar smell, although it was mixed with the lingering remains of smoke. She stretched her legs out, pointing her toes, and stifled a yawn as she opened her eyes. The brightness of the desert temporarily blinded her, despite the shade of their lean-to. She blinked several times and then froze as she realized where she was. Her head was resting on Clint's chest and she was tucked against his side. He had one arm tucked beneath his head and the other rested on her waist. Her first instinct was the shove him away, to put as much distance between herself and her partner as possible. But something kept her there, some part of her brain registered that she was comfortable and felt safe. That thought startled her as much as their current positions and she sighed, unsure what to do.

"It is a little too early to be thinking so hard." Clint's voice was deeper than normal and husky with sleep.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"Me either." He chuckled and she could feel the vibration in his chest.

"Sorry." She said after a span of silence.

"For?"

He yawned and stretched, tucking his other arm behind his head as he waited for her answer. Natasha didn't move or respond to his question, still unsure of what to think about the whole thing. She didn't allow people to get this close, she didn't allow herself to find comfort or form bonds in others, but yet that is exactly what had happened. The old part of her brain was screaming at her to get away while she still had the chance. The logical part tried to justify the situation- Clint was her partner, and one of her only friends-who was she kidding, he was her best friend. They had been through some crazy stuff together and there was no use in denying the fact that they were practically inseparable, that there was something more than a mere partnership between them.

"I don't know." She finally said with a sigh.

"You think too much." Clint used his leg to kick the sleeping bag away. Now the sun was up it was already beginning to get hot.

"You're not wrong." Her brow furrowed.

"Hey, it is too early for that." Clint freed his hand a poked at her ribs.

"Ugh, stop it." Natasha wiggled and grabbed his hand.

"Are you ticklish?" She could hear the grin in his voice and she didn't turn his hand lose.

"I will end you."

"Someone isn't a morning person." He chuckled as she turned his hand lose. He paused for a moment before resting it across her waist once more. Natasha sighed and gave up as she closed her eyes and listened to the steady thrum of his heart. She'd deal with her jumbled up thoughts later, but for now more sleep couldn't hurt anything.

"You're an ass." Natasha mumbled against his chest as she felt Clint's fingers move towards her ribs once again. "I'm still awake you know."

"You're trying to go back to sleep?"

"And why is that such a bad thing?" She grumbled, shoving his arm off her.

"Because I have to piss like a racehorse."

"I can't stand you." Natasha sighed and rolled away from him. She sat up and folded her legs underneath herself and glared at him. "Just because you can't sleep doesn't mean the rest of the world should be punished as well."

"I actually slept last night." Clint sat up with a yawn. "It was kind of nice. I don't think I woke up at all."

"Really?" Natasha raised a brow. "Is that why you are extra irritating this morning?"

"You woke up on the wrong side of the desert."

"I thought you had to go pee? So why are you still here bugging me?"

"Because I can." He chuckled. "I'll be back." He climbed to his feet and stretched before grabbing his clothes and slipping out of the shelter into the desert sun.

"Don't get lost." Natasha called after him. She changed back into her own clothes and dug two waters bottles and a couple of granola bars out. Clint returned a short while later and she tossed him a water bottle as he sunk to the ground beside her.

"I could use a cup of coffee about now." He yawned before taking a drink of water. "Water just doesn't do the same thing for your soul."

"I thought you said you slept last night?"

"I did. Now I am only fifteen years and three-hundred sixty four days behind."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and tossed him a granola bar. "Breakfast of champions right here."

"Better than the squid we got served in Japan." He shook his head. "I've never had to chase my breakfast around my plate before."

"Ugh, I had forgotten about that." Natasha wrinkled her nose. She moved to the edge of the blanket and stuck her feet out into the sun. The sand was already warm against her skin and she sighed as she dug her toes into the sand. "This feels good."

"Oh, yeah. We are practically at the beach. Let's build a sandcastle!"

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes and flicked a rock in his direction.

"So rude." Clint teased as he moved to sit beside her. "You know I'm right. The only difference is that you have to worry about spiders out here instead of crabs. Like the one by your foot."

"Gah!" Natasha jerked her foot away, her eyes surveying the ground in front of her, but she saw nothing. "You are such an ass!" She scowled at him as he laughed.

"Please tell me you aren't afraid of spiders? You've got to see the irony there."

"I am not afraid of them, but I don't have a fondness for them either. You, on the other hand, should be scared of spiders."

"Is that a threat short stack?"

"It is about to be."

"I think I can take you." He grinned at her.

"One of these days I am going to give you the true ass whupping you deserve."

"Probably shouldn't hold my breath until then, huh?" He grinned at her. Natasha shoved his shoulder and he fell onto his back dramatically as he kicked his legs into the air. "Oh, I've been attacked!" Natasha shook her head and sighed.

"I hate to spoil your fun, but how long do you think it'll be until they come for us?"

"I dunno. It's only been a day. Give them some time. Until then, kick back and enjoy our stay in paradise."

.

.

.

It had been three days since they had crashed in the desert and Natasha was beginning to wonder if anyone was even looking for them. The days passed by slowly unless they found something to do, which was near impossible in the vast empty desert. Boredom had quickly gotten to Clint and he had gone exploring after their first night. His expedition wasn't in vain as he had found a little oasis not too far from the crash site. The air was cooler near the water and several leafy trees provided shade throughout the day. The water was crystal clear and cool, and it hadn't taken the two of them long to shift their makeshift camp to the new spot.

Natasha was sitting with her back against a palm tree, her legs stretched out in the sun. Clint was in the water, splashing and rambling on about whatever came to mind. Natasha had expected herself to become annoyed at the amount of time they had been forced to spend together over the last several days, but she found that she was enjoying it. Clint had told her more stories from his childhood about the messes him and his brother had gotten into before their parents died and she found herself wanting to meet Barney. She remembered what Clint had told her, that he wasn't all there these days, but her partner obviously still held an extremely soft spot for his brother. Clint had confided in her that one day he wanted to take Barney away from that hospital, to find his own place in the country. Natasha knew that he hoped that it would somehow snap his brother back into his right mind, that it would jog the person that was buried deep.

"Hey, why do you look so serious?" Clint splashed water in her direction. The cool water hit her hot skin and she flinched.

"Honestly you are such a child." She said irritably and he jerked her from her thoughts. "I'm trying to think."

"About?" He prompted. He was lying half in the water and half out, his chin resting on his folded arms.

"Just different stuff." She shrugged. Clint got to his feet and stretched, the water glistening on his skin. A light splay of hair covered his chest and a trail ran down from his navel. His shorts hung low on his hips and her eyes ran down his body as if they had a mind of their own. She turned away to pick at the bark of the tree because Clint had time to make a comment about her checking him out; she did not feel like having to kick his ass at the moment.

"Come on Nat, come swim. Or I'm going to pick you up and drag you in."

"You wouldn't dare." She narrowed her eyes.

"You act like you don't know me." He grinned at her. "Pleeeeease?" He drew the word out, battering his lashes at her in a dramatic gesture.

"If it'll stop your whining, fine!" She pushed herself to her feet.

"I'm not whining, I am encouraging you." He laughed and pushed his wet hair back on his head. Natasha rolled her eyes at him before grabbing her shirt and pulling it over her head. She tossed it onto the sand near his and wigged out of her jeans, leaving them were they dropped. Clint watched as she walked towards him, clad in nothing but her underwear, and he knew he'd get killed if she had any idea what was going through his head. There was no denying that Natasha was stunning, even when she was pissed at him.

"Stop gawking at me." Natasha crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"Stop being a child." Clint attempted to mock her, his voice rising shrilly. Natasha suppressed a smile and shook her head.

"That was terrible."

"I dunno. I thought it was pretty good." He grinned at her.

"I really don't like you." She rolled her eyes. Clint grabbed her suddenly, swinging her into his arms.

"Clint Barton!" She shrieked. "Put me down!" She slapped his chest but he ignored her as he ran towards the water, laughing like a crazy person. As soon as the water hit his waist he dived and drug them both under water, the cool water engulfing them. Natasha came up sputtering and shoved Clint back in the water before he could surface. She held him head under for a moment before finally letting him up for air. He spat water from his mouth and grinned at her.

"Guess I dared, huh?" He splashed water at her and she smiled as she moved towards him.

"You are so dead."

"Bring it on Red." Clint dodged a splash of water and realized this was a side of Natasha he did not see very often. She was more care-free, less guarded with her actions and emotions. She seemed more normal, more human, than she ever had before. She dove behind him and grabbed him around the shoulders, pulling them both into the water. Clint couldn't put his finger on it, but something had shifted between them the last several months and it had become obvious the last several days. Natasha finally turned him loose and as he surfaced he spun around to grab her and drag her instead. Instead he found himself practically nose to nose with her, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I could drown you and they'd never now. I could say you died in the crash."

"You'd miss me too much and you know it." He grinned at her. His closeness should have made Natasha step back, but instead her eyes took in all the details of his face. The barely visible freckles across his nose, a faded scar on his lip, the dimples on his cheeks when he smiled.

"I plead the fifth on that one." She finally managed, her thoughts suddenly clouded. Clint titled his head and looked at her curiously, his eyes searching her face. She could feel the water lapping at her waist, could feel the rise and fall of his chest inches from her own, yet she felt as if she was in someone else's body looking in. She licked her lips and managed to swallow and Clint chuckled before resting his hand against her cheek. Natasha knew she run, knew that she should put as much distance between herself and Clint as she could, but she couldn't move. Somewhere her mind wondered if she even wanted to move. She felt an unfamiliar sensation in her stomach as she watched Clint dip his head towards her, his lips parting. Her heart hammered in her chest and then seemed to stop all together as Clint Barton kissed her.


	12. Chapter 12

**So the next 2 chapters in the original story I wrote were super cringe worthy and way too touchy/feely on Natasha's behalf. So I had to completely scrap the plot for both of them and try to come up with something that would still fit the rest of what I have in mind. That being said, this chapter still feels cringy, so bear with me. We'll be back to our normal banter and smart ass-ery soon. Thanks for the views and reviews so far :) **

Heat stroke. Natasha was positive she was having a heat stroke. That was the only possible explanation as to why she was standing waist deep in the water and kissing Clint back. She knew it was wrong- every fiber of her brain was screaming at her to pull away from him, to stop the madness before the damage could be done, but she knew it was already too late. His hands were already on her waist, her fingers running through the hair on his nape. His closeness should feel wrong, but it felt so right, so warm. She liked the way his lips felt on hers, the way his stubble tickled her cheek. She felt human, she felt whole. She closed her eyes, the memory forever burning itself into her mind; she'd never be able to forget this, there was no taking it back. And then it was over as fast as it had begun.

"Natasha." Clint took a step back and she turned her back to him as she bit her lip. "Natasha, I-"

"Don't." Her voice was fragile, her thoughts clouded. "Say anything you want, but don't tell me you are sorry."

"I wasn't going to." She felt the water ripple as he closed the distance between them and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Then what were you going to say?"

"I don't know actually. Are you ok?"

"Am I ok?" Her laugh was harsh. "No, I am not ok, Clint."

"I'm such an idiot." Clint groaned. He could practically see her throwing her walls back up, walls that he had worked for months to break down. They had become partners, a team, two parts of a whole. And he was positive he had just destroyed that.

"Yeah, you are." She said softly. She thought about all the times they had fought, the times she had hit him, the times she had patched him back up and kept him from dying. His stupid jokes, his irritating habits, the way he grinned at her every time she was mad. How had she been stupid? How had she let him become that close to her? How had she come to care for him that much?

"I didn't meant to hurt you. I should've…I don't know." He said miserably. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I am sorry. Not that it happened, just the way it happened. I didn't plan it, I didn't even know I wanted it to happen. But it did and…" his voice trailed off as he realized he was rambling, unsure of what to even say.

Natasha said nothing, her mind racing a million miles a minute as she overanalyzed every possible thing she could. The last person she had trusted was her mother and father. Ever since her mother's death, her life had been full of lies, pain, and betrayal. She had quickly learned that it was better if no one got close to her, if she kept everyone at an arms length so that they couldn't hurt her. She had spent her entire life living by that code and then Clint had come along and messed things up. He seemed to be the exception to her every rule, her every belief about the horrors of life. He had never tried to hurt her or force her to do anything she wasn't willing to do. He hadn't betrayed her, had never pressed her when she clammed up or tried to pry information out of her. When they got mad he never handled her harshly or hurt her. He'd never made a promise he couldn't keep and was always there for her when she needed someone, even if she didn't realize she did in fact need someone. The silence stretched long and she felt Cint take a step back, his hand falling away from her shoulder.

"You trusted me…and now I am losing my best friend. I'm so stupid." He swore at himself and turned towards the shore. What in the hell had he been thinking?

"Unfortunately you are right." She turned to face his back. "I did trust you…and I still do." Clint paused and turned back around, his brow furrowed.

"I really am sorry Nat. I don't want to fuck things up. We can pretend like this never happened, we-"

"You know that wouldn't work." She shook her head.

"I know." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"I just…need time to think, ok? I need some space."

"You aren't the only one." He shook his head. "I..I dunno." He shrugged helplessly. Natasha didn't have anything else to say and they stared at each other for a long moment until Clint suddenly spun around, cocking his head. Natasha heard it too- a low hum, a chopper. She began wading towards the shore, desperate to put as much space between herself and Clint as she could. She wasn't sure what he had just started, what was going to happen, but she was certain of one thing: it was an absolute mess.

. . .

**One week later**

Natasha was avoiding him, that much Clint was sure of. It had been nearly a week since their extract from the desert and he had hardly saw her at all around the base. She hadn't shown up to spar with him at all, she wasn't eating in the chow hall, and she had conveniently been sick on the day Coulson wanted to meet with the two of them. Clint knew she wanted space and needed time to think, but he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for her to be ready to talk. Or if she'd ever be ready for that matter. His heart dropped a bit at the prospect of her going ghost on him. That thought made him realize just how boring his life would be without his companion and partner.

Clint stared at the ceiling of his apartment and tried to sort through his thoughts, but he couldn't seem to get a handle on them. His lack of sleep was effecting his ability to function and just going through the motions of a somewhat normal week had left him drained both physically and mentally. His normally cozy apartment began to feel cramped and he could feel the panic of being confined setting it. He realized that he need to get outside, he needed to be somewhere open and quiet where he could think. And he knew just the place.

Clint rolled off the couch and grabbed his shoes before heading towards his door. He didn't bother to lock it as he shut it behind him and set off down the empty halls, careful to avoid anyone. It was already late and he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone who might still be up. Several minutes later he paused outside of Natasha's room, but then shook his head and kept walking. It was pointless to even try. Besides, what would he say? He couldn't even figure out what he wanted to think, so what in the world would he say to her?

He reached a locked door and punched in the code that Coulson had give him so many years ago. The door clicked and he stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. It was dark, but he knew the way. He crossed the room, avoiding the multiple water heaters that stood in a row, until his hands closed around the metal rungs of a later. He began climbing, the seconds ticking away with the click of his shoes on the metal rungs. He finally reached an escape hatch and threw it open, the warm night air rushing in to meet him. He climbed out onto the roof and took a deep breath, the night sky welcoming him like an old friend. He crossed the roof to a low rise and swung himself up over the ledge and then froze, surprised to see that someone was already in his favorite spot.

Natasha was sitting at the buildings ledge and had her legs dangling over the side. She was leaning back resting on her arms, her head craned upwards to the night sky. Clint paused before crossing the roof to sit down beside her, dropping his legs over the air. The warm breeze tugged at his clothes and he sighed softly as he looked at the stars, a familiar calm settling over him. Neither of them spoke or acknowledged one another for the longest time until Natasha finally broke the silence.

"Hey." She said softly.

"Hey." He kept his eyes trained forward, unsure of what else to say.

"You know, I never stopped to look at the stars before I met you. I can't believe I managed to miss all of that." She nodded towards the night sky.

"You just think you are looking at the stars. Next time you are in the country side, when there are no lights to pollute the sky, look up. There is a whole other world out there." Clint shook his head. "Makes us seem awfully small in comparison."

"I'll keep that in mind." She sighed. "You know why I think I like the stars so much? And the moon?"

"No, why?" Clint asked, partially out of curiosity, but mostly just to keep her talking. This was the most they had spoken since their return from the desert and he hadn't realized just how bad he had wanted to talk to her until that moment.

"Because they are predictable. No matter how nasty the weather, how big of a fight, no matter what goes wrong- they are always there like they are supposed to be. Predictable, reliable."

"Unlike people."

"Unlike people." She agreed.

"Unlike me."

"I didn't say that." He watched her smile slightly.

"Nah, but it was implied." He chuckled. "How'd you manage to find my secret spot?"

"Coulson told me about it." She shook her head. "I've been coming up here the past couple of nights…I figured I'd run into you eventually."

"Would've been a lot easier to just come knock. Or show up to spar in the mornings. I'm starting to feel like I've got love handles."

"Please." Natasha rolled her eyes. "Not even. And I know, but I just needed time to think."

"Any luck with that?"

"A bit." She sighed. "I've decided that no matter what I do, I am screwed."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Because my instincts tell me to push you away, to throw up the walls that I had built before and to not let you any closer. I should leave right now and not look back. Maybe I avoid you and go on about my life, lock you away in some drawer that I never open. Or maybe I leave this place and go…I don't know where I'd go, but I would leave. But if I do that, there will always be a part of me that wonders 'what if?'. Or, I can let you in. I can let you get closer than anyone has been before, to see all of my insecurities and defects. I already trust you and I can set myself up even further for betrayal. I can set myself up to be hurt in a way that only my father had hurt me before. But, I wouldn't have to wonder what could have been. So I am conflicted, confused. Unsure of what to think. So I've been hiding, avoiding you, hoping that if I ran long enough or chased the thoughts around in my head long enough that an answer would magically appear."

"And has it?"

"Of course not." Natasha laughed bitterly.

"I'm sorry for making a mess of things." Clint sighed.

"Guess I should be used to that by now."

"If it makes you feel better, my thoughts have been on a similar path to yours. I can't find any answers either. I don't have any solutions."

"I don't know that there is a right or wrong answer. Some problems just don't have a solution."

"So what do you want me to do then, Nat?" He asked miserably. "I don't want things to be like this."

"I want you.." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. She could be like the stars, she could be predictable and stick to everything she knew, everything she had relied on in the past, or she could take a chance, just like she had taken a chance when she first met Clint. "I want you to kiss me, I think." She dead panned, her face void of any emotion. Clint turned towards her, his brows rose in surprise.

"Say what?"

"You know I am not a fan of repeating myself." She frowned slightly.

"You are so confusing." Clint shook his head.

"You act like that is something new." She finally smiled. "I guess…just be patient with me, ok? This is so…new. So confusing. And so against anything I've ever taught myself."

"I understand." Clint climbed to his feet and offered her his hand. "Come here." He pulled her to her feet and into a hug. Natasha wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, ignoring the urge to pull away. Just like she had trained herself to throw up walls, she was going to have to train herself to let them down around Clint. She had no idea what would come from the mess they were in, whether she would get hurt and end up alone, and she couldn't bring herself to think about what would happen if the opposite came to by. No matter how she looked at it, either possibility scared her. But, she was tired of running. She was tired of trying to hide.

"Thanks, Clint." She stepped away after a moment. "I'm sorry for bailing on you all week."

"Ah, it is fine. Gave me a chance to beat up on the rookies." He chuckled and shook his head. "You coming in the morning?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. I am exhausted…I'm going to head back down."

"I think I am going to sit up here for a while. Not like I can sleep anyway." He sighed. "Good night, Nat." He tucked her wind blown hair behind her ear. "Do me a favor?"

"Hmm?" She turned away from him, thrown off by the familiar gesture.

"Don't be afraid to talk to me, ok? I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know Clint." She sighed. "I'll see you in the morning, ok?" She headed for the ladder, ready to be back in her room and in the cover of complete darkness. She should have told him to leave her alone, she should have left this place a week ago, but she couldn't make herself do it. The curiosity of the unknown, of the what could be, kept her there. No matter what happened at the end of the day, she was already going to hell so she was determined to do a thorough job of it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Just a little fluff to help create a time jump and establish a few timelines. But mostly just to soothe the gaping hole I am about to rip in everyone's hearts with the Budapest arc. Next chapter will kick it off! Thanks for all the views, reviews, and PMs. You're feedback is greatly appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the movies or characters listed below, blah blah blah.**

Clint grinned as he slipped into Natasha's room and shut the door without a sound. He crossed the quiet apartment to her bedroom and laid his hand against the door, turning the knob without a sound. Natasha was sprawled out under the blankets, one arm hanging off the bed. He grinned as he stalked towards the bed and thought about the reaction he was about to get out of her. Fury had sent him to New Mexico for two weeks and Natasha was oblivious to his return. As long as she didn't shoot him, scaring her should be funny. And he needed a laugh after the things he had seen the last two weeks. His mind briefly flashed to the Asgardians, but he pushed those thoughts away; he would deal with them later.

"Rise and shine!" Clint hollered, snatching the blanket away from Natasha. She groaned and pulled a pillow over her head face while Clint gaped at her, the blanket hanging from his hand. She was stretched out on her stomach wearing a t-shirt(one he was sure he had lost) and a pair of lacey black panties. Clint swallowed hard and tried to remember how to breath.

"Who let you back on base?" She grumbled, one hand fumbling around in search of a blanket. When she failed to find one she rolled over on her back and glared at him, motioning for him to return the covers. "It is cold in here, ass hat. Give that back."

"Uh." Clint made an unintelligent sound.

"Very subtle." She crawled onto her knees and patted his cheek before snatching the blanket back. She wrapped it around herself before sitting down cross legged with a yawn. "When did you get back?"

"Uh, late last night." Clint scratched his head. "Thought I'd surprise you."

"Only one of us seems surprised." She smirked at him.

"Guess I didn't think this one through."

"You don't say." She smiled. "How was New Mexico?"

"Oh my God. Or should I say Gods?" Clint groaned and fell across her bed face first. "Natasha, you're going to think I am crazy, but there are entire fucking worlds out there that we don't know about. _Worlds_. And two Asgardian…gods? I don't know what the hell they are. They were here. And I don't want to think about it. It makes my brain hurt."

"What do you mean worlds?" Her brow furrowed. "Are you drunk?"

"I wish." He groaned.

"You can't drop something like that on me and then not explain it."

"Oh, it'll get explained. Fury wants to meet with both of us tomorrow to bring you up to speed. Our defenses suddenly seem a little…lacking." He sighed and Natasha fell onto her back beside him, the blanket still clutched around her.

"Just when you think you've seen it all." She sighed. "Gods though?"

"Yeah, Gods. Like the Thor dude with his hammer? Yeah, that isn't a myth. He's real. We've met. Real pleasant fellow when he isn't angry. His brother is a little cray though."

"Get out of here."

"Scouts honor." Clint rolled onto his side to face her. "I don't want to talk abut that mess though. I feel like I am going to go crazy."

"You're already crazy." She smiled at him. "Ok then, other than the nonsense, how was New Mexico?"

"Hot, humid, boring. I'm going to kick Fury's ass next time he sends one of us out alone again."

"Aww, you poor baby." Natasha laughed. "It was only two weeks. At least you weren't stuck with Stark for weeks."

"He can't be that bad." Clint chuckled. "Come on, you must've missed me a little bit."

"You have no idea." Natasha made a face. "And I dunno, it was pretty nice not to have to babysit you." She smiled.

"Babysit this." Clint grabbed her and crushed her in a hug. She squirmed as he tried to tickle her sides and wiggled away from him.

"And that is why I didn't miss you." She rolled her eyes but he grinned, calling her bluff.

"Ok, miss big and bad. You didn't miss me. I'll pretend to believe you."

"Pretend to get out of my room so I can get dressed." She threw a pillow at him. "Are we sparring this morning?"

"If you want." Clint caught the pillow as he sat up and hugged it to his chest. He chuckled as he thought about how much Natasha had changed, especially since they had crashed in the desert a little over a year ago. She wasn't a touchy feely person by any means, but they bantered more and she smiled more frequently, at least around Clint. Their relationship was definitely lacking in the physical department, they'd share a hurried kiss here and there, but simply being around one another seemed to be enough.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She frowned at him as she tossed the blanket back onto the bed and walked over to her dresser.

"Just thinking." He smirked at her, trying not to stare.

"I can see you." Natasha met his eyes in the mirror and he shrugged.

"No shame in looking. Besides, you've got it, might as well flaunt it."

"Would you please get out of here before I kick your ass?"

"Fine, fine." He chuckled and rolled off the bed.

"Give me five minutes."

"Five minutes, huh? There are a lot of things you can do in five minutes."

"Oh yeah?" Natasha turned to face him and leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. She raised a brow, giving him a sultry look that he was unaccustomed to receiving. "And what do you have in mind?"

"Uh." Clint scratched the back of his neck.

"Exactly. Get out of here with your big talk and go change. I'll meet you in the gym."

"Ok, you win." Clint held his hands up in surrender and walked out of her room with a smile. He was never going to get the best of that woman.

.

.

.

Clint stumbled as he stepped back from Natasha and blinked the sweat from his eyes. They hadn't even been sparring for five minutes and he was already soaked, which was unusual for him. He had missed several of his blocks and was barely holding Natasha at bay. He could tell that she was pulling her punches, giving him a chance to recover, but it wasn't helping him. He dropped to a crouch and swept out with his leg, but his eyes were messing with him. He misjudged the distance and missed by a mile, leaving himself wide open for a counter attack. Natasha swept his legs out from under him and had him pinned within seconds, her knee on his chest and her arm against his throat.

"What in the hell was that?" She scowled down at him.

"Just missed, that's all." Clint grumbled, depleted of any energy. "You win."

"Bullshit. You've never gone down that easy." She frowned. She sat back on legs, straddling his chest, and looked at the dark circles under his eyes. "You've got to start sleeping, Clint."

"I can't." He said miserably. "As soon as I fall asleep I have nightmares. Or I can't fall asleep at all. Or I'll toss and turn all night."

"Have you tried taking anything?"

"Yeah, nothing helps. Short of getting black out drunk, but I'm not exactly about that life." He sighed.

"Let me think." She sighed. "There's got to be something."

"Good luck."

"I don't need luck."

"Do you plan on getting off of my any time soon?"

"Didn't think you'd be one to complain." She smirked at him.

"I mean under different circumstances…"

"Don't you know I'd have to kill you? That's what black widows do." She teased before kissing him lightly. "Come on birdy, on your feet." She jumped up and offered him a hand.

"That's only if you actually get to bite me." He chuckled and accepted her hand, climbing to his feet. "Obviously I am in no condition for a round two, so how about we go grab breakfast before that stupid firearm safety meeting? What is that all about anyway?"

"Maria Hill." Natasha laughed suddenly. "Fury tried to send her out in the field with that rookie, uh, Johnson I think is his name. She threatened to shoot Johnson. Fury threatened to kick her ass all the way back to a demotion. She threatened to shoot Fury. So now we are all paying the price for Fury being butthurt."

"Sounds about right." Clint shook his heads. "She threatened to shoot Fury though? Huh. Remind me why we aren't friends with her? Anyways, breakfast?"

"No." Natasha said slowly, an idea coming to mind. "I've got something else in mind?"

"Oh yeah? Like what?" He crossed his arms.

"We skip that meeting-"

"Oo, I already like where this is going."

"Let me finish." She frowned at him. "We skip that meeting and we have that movie night that you mentioned a while of years ago."

"No way." Clint's face lit up like a little kid. "A while ago? That was like two years ago! I've been trying to get you to come watch movies with me for forever!"

"Yeah, well, consider it your lucky day. You might go buy a scratch off ticket while you're at it." She rolled her eyes.

"Are you serious Nat? Don't play with me like this."

"It is just a movie." She shook her head. "You're crazy."

"It is not just a movie. It is movies. It is a movie day!" He grinned at her. "I am about to provide you with an experience of a life time. I have very serious instructions for you- can you follow them?"

"I'm sure I can manage." She made a face at him.

"What time is it?"

"Um, almost ten." She glanced at her watch.

"Perfect. Ok. Meet me at my apartment in two hours. Don't eat. Wear pajamas. Got it?"

"Pajamas?" She raised a brow. "You saw my pajamas. You really want me walking through the halls in that?"

"I mean personally, I'd be down." He gave her a shit eating grin. "But, you aren't wrong. Just come comfy, ok? And hungry."

"Anything else?"

"Nope." He surprised her with a quick kiss before jogging off, leaving Natasha behind to shake her head. What had she just gotten herself into?

.

.

.

Natasha knocked on Clint's door and rested her hand against the door frame, shifting back and forth uncomfortably. She had worn a tank top and her short exercise shorts which left her feeling exposed as she walked down the hall. She considered busting the door down when Clint opened it, a grin on his face. He was wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and his recently showered hair was still wet and untidy.

"Hey there." A blast of cold air escaped the apartment and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Jesus Clint, do you miss Antarctica that much? How are you not freezing?"

"I like it cold." He chuckled and stepped aside. "Come on in."

"Pneumonia is not an appropriate sleep aid." She grumbled.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." He chuckled and shut the door behind her. "I've got a couple of steaks in the oven." He cast a glance at her watch. "Should be ready in about thirty minutes. But, until then, sit!" He pointed at the couch.

"Can you turn the damn AC down?" She whined as she sat down at the end of the couch, tucking her bare feet underneath herself.

"Aren't you supposed to be Russian?" He teased as he grabbed a thick blanket off his recliner and tossed it to her. "Get comfy, I'll be right back." He practically ran to the kitchen and reappeared a few minutes later with a bowl of popcorn balanced in one hand and two beers in the other.

"You take this seriously, huh?" She smiled as he grabbed the remote and sat down next to her.

"I told you I am about to educate you!"

"What are we watching?"

"Well, you've never seen the Lion King, which is practically treason. Everyone needs to see Lady and the Tramp. I figured you'd like Terminator because you know, death, and then the finale is Lord of The Rings. We won't have time to watch them all, but I am starting you down an appropriate path of life."

"Oh, is that what it is called?" She shook her head. "You're a goofball."

"Yes ma'am." He set the beers on the table and balanced the popcorn as he moved under the blanket. Natasha flipped around on the couch and leaned against the arm rest, sticking her feet underneath his thigh. "Jesus your feet are cold!"

"I wonder why?" She asked sarcastically, snagging the bowl of popcorn from him. "Are we going to watch a movie or talk?"

"Always in a hurry." He shook his head and pressed play on the remote before tossing it onto the coffee table. "You must learn patience grasshopper. Let us begin our journey into the unknown!"

.

.

.

"Well, what did you think?" Clint asked as the credits ended and the movie flicked back to the title screen. Natasha said nothing, a crease in her brow. She was tucked against Clint's side with her head resting against is shoulder, the blanket tucked up around her neck. He had an arm draped around her and both legs kicked out from underneath the blanket to keep cool. The empty popcorn bowl had long been discarded next to two empty plates and several empty bottles of beer.

"You can't tell me Gandalf is really dead." She said finally, frowning. "There is no way. I don't believe that. Why in the world would they kill Gandalf?"

"Guess you'll have to watch the second movie now." Clint laughed. "Did you like it though?"

"Yeah, I did. Legolas makes you look like a chump though."

"Hey," he nudged her playfully. "If I had Legolas's looks I'd practically be a god."

"That is not what I meant." She rolled her eyes.

"I don't have that elven sight. It is a shame, really. Can you imagine how bad ass I'd really be then?"

"Whatever." She shook her head.

"I think you and Gimli have a lot in common though."

"What? How?"

"Short, red headed, angry, ready to fight all the time. Need I go on?"

"You're such an ass." She laughed and punched his arm.

"I know." He chuckled. "On a serious note, thanks for hanging out with me though. It was nice."

"Mhm." She smiled and snuggled back against his side. "But for real, we need to watch the second movie. Go put it on."

"It is almost midnight." Clint shook his head. "You're crazy. The next movie is like three hours long."

"So?" She batted her eyes lashes at him. "Please?"

"Tomorrow maybe. Gives you an excuse to come back."

"Didn't know I needed one." She arched a brow.

"You've never came over until now." He shrugged.

"Yes I-huh, I guess you're right."

"I know I am."

"Wipe that smirk off your face."

"Nah, you gonna make me?"

"You wish." She said around a yawn and stretched her legs out, wiggling her numb toes. "I guess you're right though. It is late."

"Come on." Clint patted her thigh. "Get up and I'll walk you back."

"I've been drinking. It isn't safe to drink and walk."

"I'll carry you back then?" He shook his head. "Besides, it'd be a shame if you got snatched."

"I'd be more scared for the person who snatched me."

"You've been drinking, remember? You're poor and defenseless."

"I could be black out drunk and still kill a man." She rolled her eyes. "I'm Russian, remember?"

"Nope, your Russian Card got revoked when you complained about the cold."

"Always got jokes don't you." She patted his cheek. "One day you're gonna get it."

"I got it this morning." He laughed. "My back still hurts."

"That's what you get for walking around like a zombie. Speaking of sleep, it is late, I am slightly intoxicated, and I am ready for bed. So can we go to bed?"

"I told you I'd walk you back!"

"I don't wanna walk back." She yawned again. "I came in pajamas, therefor I am spending the night."

"Oh, yeah?" Clint raised his brows. "That's the plan, huh?"

"Mhm. Any objections?"

"Nah, not too many." He chuckled and untangled himself from Natasha. "You're not going to take advantage of me, are you? I have been drinking after all."

"You're stupid." She rolled off the couch and sat the empty plates inside the bowl before heading towards the kitchen. Clint collected their bottles and followed her, chuckling as she muttered about how cold it was. Natasha rinsed the dishes off and loaded them into Clint's dish washer as he tossed the bottles into the garbage can. He pulled the trash bag out and set it outside in the hall before locking his door and returning to the kitchen.

"Nat, I-" His sentence trailed off as her realized the kitchen was empty. He shook his head and headed towards his bedroom. He was just shutting the door when Natasha emerged from his bathroom with a yawn. She ignored him and crawled into his bed, tucking a pillow under her head and curling up in a ball. Clint chuckled and flipped the lights off before crawling in next to her. He paused, giving her the opportunity to move close to him if she wanted to.

"Don't be dumb." She mumbled, wiggling close to him and tucking herself against his side. She drug his arm across her body and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Better safe than sorry." He tucked her hair behind her shoulder. "Warming up yet?"

"Mhm." She sighed and he felt the slow rise and fall of her chest.

"Good deal. Good night, Natasha." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He felt her smile and she rested a hand on his chest, just above his heart.

"G'night." Clint yawned and felt himself relaxing for the first time in months. An unfamiliar fogginess filled his head and for the first time in months he was asleep within minutes, Natasha tucked securely against his side.


	14. Chapter 14

**Unleashing chaos and angst in 3…2…1…Enjoy!**

Clint winced as he opened his eyes, the sun hitting him right in the face. He blinked several times to clear the light spots from his vision and raised a brow at his compromising position. He was lying on his back and Natasha was practically on top of him, obviously still sound asleep. One of her legs was tucked between his and she had an arm stretched across his chest so that her hand could intertwine with his. Her head was on his chest and she had a peaceful look on her face. His bladder screamed at him, but he couldn't move her without waking her up and he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Ever since Natasha had started sleeping with him several months ago he had been able to sleep soundly for the first time since he was a child. Every now and then he would have a random nightmare, but Natasha was always there to wake him up and calm him back down.

Natasha finally stirred and stretched, her feet running along his legs. She yawned and her eyes fluttered open, turning her head to hide from the sun. Clint chuckled and wrapped his free arm around her, his hand moving to her back. He rubbed her back in large lazy circles and her breath tickled his chest.

"Morning." He reached down to pat her butt. "You comfortable?"

"Very." She closed her eyes again and sighed as he went back to rubbing her back. This had become a common morning routine for the two of them- one of them would have to coax the other out of bed or they'd end up lounging around together until late in the morning. The whole situation would still set off a red flag in Natasha's mind from time to time, but she had learned to ignore that side of her brain for the most part. She was still a little leery over just how close they had become, she still stalled every time she realized just how attached she had become to Clint, but then he would be there cracking a joke or making her smile and she remembered that she didn't care. Besides, they were friends and friends could offer each other comfort, right? That thought made her want to laugh as she thought about their current sleeping arrangements. They had blown past friends a long time ago. She sighed and wondered how she was supposed to win the never ending fight with her own mind.

"You ok?" Clint asked as he caught the soft sigh. His hand moved to her arm and he ran his finger tips up and down her arm. Natasha took a moment to answer, lost in his soft touch. Until recently she had never received that kind of gentle attention before- Drakov and his men had been rough and violent with her anytime they had their way with her. She had never known a gentle touch like Clint's and although it was new and a bit startling, she couldn't deny that she liked it.

"Just thinking." She finally replied, her voice still soft and sleepy.

"You're always thinking. Just relax. Enjoy the moment."

"I am quite relaxed and I can assure you that I am enjoying the moment." She smiled slightly. Clint's hand stopped rubbing her arm and she poked her lip out, pushing her arm back against his hand. "Don't stop."

"Are you a cat now?" Clint chuckled, resuming his arm rubbing duties.

"Shut up. It feels good."

"All you have to do is ask." Clint smirked. "Or do you prefer to go around brushing on people until they start rubbing on you?"

"No one has ever rubbed on me before." She paused, refusing to let the painful memories enter her thoughts. "And if you are comparing me to a cat, you would do well to remember that cat's scratch." She ran her finger nails across his chest and she felt him shiver.

"I'm calling your bluff on that one." He chuckled, his voice husky. "You'd never just scratch me, you'd kick my ass."

"Look at you finally learning." She teased before stretching up to give him a long, lingering kiss. Between her teasing and increased affection, Clint realized that she was in rare form and he hated that he needed to get up. She moved one hand to his hair, running her fingers along his scalp, and he sighed against her lips.

"If you keep that up we aren't going to get out of bed today." Clint knew it was an empty threat- nothing beyond a little teasing had happened between them. He knew that Natasha wasn't ready for that yet, but it didn't matter. Simply being near her was enough for him. From time to time he tried to imagine life without her and he just couldn't stand the thought of it. His hand moved to her waist and he held her close to him, his leg wrapping around hers as she continued to kiss him.

"And that is a bad thing?" She breathed against his lips.

"Under different circumstances, no. But, I am about to pee on the both of us."

"You get on my nerves." Natasha sighed and rolled off of him.

"I'll make it up to you." Clint rolled onto his side and pressed a kiss to her neck before moving over her and off the bed. He crossed the room to the bathroom and as he shut the door Natasha sat up and stretched. She was mad at herself that she could never seem to follow through on their teasing. Clint was always a gentleman and never pushed any further than she led them, which wasn't far at all. Too many painful memories, too many feelings of being not good enough for him, seemed to haunt her when they were together. She shivered as Clint's lack of body heat registered and she climbed out of bed, pulling on Clint's discarded pajama pants. Clint reemerged from the bathroom with a grin as he noticed her wearing his pants.

"Cold?"

"You know how I feel about you and your damn AC."

"I don't hear you complaining when you are leeching off my body heat. Come on, I'll make us breakfast." He watched as Natasha padded out of his room and he paused to look at their spot on the bed; that was something he could definitely get used to.

. . . . . .

"Hey Phil." Natasha greeted the man without looking up from the book she was reading as she sensed him approaching from behind her. Phil Coulson sighed and shook his head; Natasha and Clint always seemed to know when he was coming, regardless of how quiet he was.

"Hey Natasha. How are you?" He leaned against the table, arms crossed. Natasha yawned before dog earing a page of her book and set it down on the table.

"Doing well. And yourself?"

"Staying busy, as always."

"You've got this look in your eye like something is on your mind. Please tell me you aren't sending me back to Stark."

"No." Coulson chuckled. "We've had a situation come up though. Have you seen Clint around?"

"Not since this morning…didn't know I was his babysitter."

"Well, I figure since you two practically live together now you might have an idea on his whereabout."

"Excuse me?" Natasha scowled at him, eyes flashing.

"Hey, take it easy." He shrugged. "It isn't my business, I know. But, I think there are worse things to happen. Barton's changed a lot over the last several years. It's good for him. You too- you aren't so scary anymore."

"Oh really?" She raised a brow. Coulson grinned and winked at her.

"Like I said, I don't really care what the two of you do. But, I do need to talk to you both. Like I said, somethings come up. And we need you both in on this one."

"Where to this time?" Natasha sighed, trying to remember the last time they had been on a real mission and not some pointless errand for S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Budapest." Coulson sighed. "Things have gotten…messy. I'll explain everything when we meet. I'm going to find Clint. Meet us in A10 in thirty minutes."

"Alright." Natasha picked her book back up. "You might try the weight room. It is Tuesday after all."

"Yeah, ok. Thanks." He smiled at her, but something in his eyes made her uneasy. Something was concerning him, something that he wasn't telling her. She sat her book back down as she watched him walk away and she wondered just what kind of mess they were about to get into.

.

.

.

"Hey." Clint greeted Natasha with a nod as he sat down in the chair next to hers. Phil Coulson stood across the table from them and nodded at them both.

"Good afternoon." He slipped them both a file before turning his back to them and leaning against the table, his eyes on a projector screen that was flashing through various pictures of battles and building plans. Clint took the opportunity to brush his hand against Natasha and she could see the unspoken question of 'what's going on?' in his eyes. She shrugged in reply and crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

"What is all of this?" Clint asked, watching the screen.

"Couple of video clips from a militia force in Budapest. Some building plan layouts. That kind of stuff." Phil sighed and ran a hand over his face before turning to face them.

"You said things were messy and that we were needed. So what's the scoop?" Clint rested his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

"How much do you know about Captain America?" Coulson finally asked after a brief pause, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed.

"The guy they fished out of the ice recently?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah, that guy."

"The worlds first super soldier. Went down almost a hundred years ago to stop a bunch of nukes or something like that, right?"

"Yes. That program was scrapped after Steve Rodgers went down. Too many uncontrolled variables, too many unknown factors, and the two men that were capable of replicating that formula were dead. It was filed away, hidden from sigh, but never quite forgotten. Whenever they found Captain America alive, the world was suddenly very interested in doing their homework on that program, as were we. I cannot disclose too much, but we began working with a doctor overseas to see if we could replicate that very formula once more, or at least something close to it." Phil paused. "Several parties became interested in his work, so we placed him under our protection and moved him somewhere secure. Budapest to be exact, underneath the embassy building."

"Underneath?" Natasha raised a brow.

"Yes, underneath. There is a rather extensive lab there and we provided the extra funding to turn it into a research center that was well protected so that the good doctor could work in peace. He was off the radar and we were close to a breakthrough. Very close actually. And then everything went wrong."

"Let me guess, he's double crossed you? Taken off with the serum?" Clint shook his head.

"I wish it was that easy." Coulson sighed. "Before the doctor was involved with us, he traveled all over the eastern countries performing odd jobs for a lot of questionable people. He became involved with several crime rings and underground organizations. It was hard to get him off the radar and even harder to erase his trail. We thought we had done a pretty good job, but one of his former bosses somehow caught wind of who he was working for and what he was working on. This man is interested in the formula off course- any man would be. To become invincible, to be able to bend others to your will- it is a mad man's dream. We found out that the doctor's position had been compromised only after it was too late. An organized group of militia moved into the area and took the embassy building within hours. We now have a multiple hostage situation, we are unsure if the doctor is still alive, and all of our work is in the hands of the enemy."

"So we are supposed to go fight off an entire militia to recover something that should've been left alone in the first place?" Natasha frowned.

"No, you are supposed to get inside and take down the man in charge of this whole operation. Without their leader, they will quickly fall. He's been in charge for close to forty years now. He trusts no one, kills anyone who moves up the ranks too quickly. He will not let anyone become a threat to his power. If we can take him out, we can wipe this organization out once and for all. And recovering the doctor and his work would be an added bonus."

"What organization is that?" Clint asked, but Natasha already knew. She met Coulson's eyes and he looked down as he tried to hide the fear on his face for her. "Phil?"

"The Red Room, Clint." Natasha answered softly. "Damn that man. This is no accident, Phil."

"I'm afraid you're right. This is an act of revenge. They know where you are. They are trying to flush you out."

"And you're going to send her in?" Clint demanded. "What the hell, Coulson? You're sending us into a trap!"

"Trap or not, there is still a job to be done! Who do you want me to send? Maria Hill? Or maybe a team of rookies? You know that you are the best that we have. There is a lot more on the line here than her running into her old boss!" Coulson snapped back.

"And what happens if she gets killed? Or captured?" Clint practically growled. "You think they'll let her live? That they'll kindly ask her to rejoin their ranks?"

"My hands are tied! This is way above our heads!"

"This is bullshit!" Clint's hand slapped the table. "You can't make her go. Hell, you can't make me go. I can walk away right now, just like she can."

"You can…but you won't." Phil sighed. "If they are able to use that serum, if they gain that power…it will be hydra all over again. They already have the reach, the resources, the weapons. All they need is that serum and their arm can suddenly reach across the sea and touch us. And then it doesn't matter where you are, where she is. They will eventually hunt you down, corner you. And then what? You save yourself a couple of a months, maybe a couple of years, and for what? So thousands can die in the meantime? She entire countries can crumble?"

"But-" Clint began, but Natasha shook her head.

"He's right, Clint. You don't understand…Drakov will not stop now. No one has ever crossed him and lived to tell the tale. I am the one that got away. He would have the world destroyed in order to get to me. I've been compromised and there is no going back now. Just forward."

"So what options do we have then?"

"You get inside, you help secure that lab, and you kill Drakov." Coulson sighed. "It won't be easy. It will be unlike any operation we've ran before. But we don't have a choice. Can you handle this?" He finally met Natasha's eyes. She didn't say anything and ran a hand over her face.

"I hope."

"Why couldn't you?" Clint frowned. "Those people…the things they did to you, the things he did to you…it shouldn't even be a question!"

"Clint." Phil said softly, but Natasha shook her head.

"I'll tell him. I should have told him a long time ago." She sighed. She looked at Clint, her eyes sad, fragile.

"Tell me what?" His stomach turned uneasily, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Clint…" Natasha met his eyes and he was surprised to see tears welling there "Drakov is my father."


	15. Chapter 15

**So I've had writers block BAD the last several days. I finally gave up and wrote this. I am not entirely happy with it, but I have the next several chapters planned out and just needed to get through this one. I may go back and change this one around a bit, but I am not sure. Thoughts? Opinions? Rude remarks? As always, thanks for reading!**

"You could've told me sooner." Clint's voice was soft, but his mind was racing. Several things about her suddenly made sense to him; her hesitation over growing close to her, her second guessing about their relationship, the way she always seemed to be at war with herself. Clint felt like a fool. He knew her mother had been killed, but he had never pressed her for the details. He knew that Drakov and his men had tortured her physically and mentally, but he never would have imagined that Drakov could be her father. How had he been so blind?

"No I couldn't." Natasha's voice cracked and she blinked rapidly. Coulson cleared his throat and turned his back to them, trying to give them as much privacy as he could in the small conference room. She met his eyes and he was surprised to see the raw fear there, fear that she didn't need to explain. She had fought so hard to lay her demons to rest and now they had been resurrected, thrown back into her face. Clint knew her big secret now. He knew everything. She was raw, exposed, caught in the open. She kept waiting for the hurt to come, the moment when he would look at her with disgust and pity over what her own father had done to her.

"You don't have to keep everything bottled up, Nat. How many times have you talked me through a nightmare? You've gone with me to see Barney. You don't have to try to carry the world by yourself."

"Yes I do." She dropped her head to the table, lying her cheek against the cool metal.

"Come here." Clint scooted his chair close to her and wrapped her in a hug, his head resting against hers. Natasha didn't say anything, but she grabbed his hand and held on to it tightly. She felt like a fool, sitting there with her emotions, her soul, barred for the world, but what choice did she have? She sat there for several minutes with Clint's strong arms around her, drawing comfort from him as she tried to sort out her own thoughts. She finally took a long shaky breath and nudged him off of her. She sat up and straightened her shoulders, meeting his eyes and silently thanking him.

"I can do this. I will do this."

"If we didn't think you could then we wouldn't be sending you in." Coulson turned back to them. "We've arranged a transport for you that will leave in two hours. I know it is short notice, but the clock is ticking here. I wish I had more I could tell you, but I don't. We've left you all the buildings blue prints and what we know as far as intel goes, but it isn't much. As soon as you're ready for evac our allies will coordinate a pick up with us. Any questions?" They both shook their heads. "Then good luck and god speed."

.

.

.

"I love how Coulson failed to mention that we'd be wing suiting in." Clint grumbled as he struggled to get the tight spandex suit on. Natasha raised a brow as she leaned against the wall and watched him, her suit already on. He made a face at her and jerked the clingy material over one thigh, then the other.

"Would you like some help?" She finally asked, trying to keep a straight face. They hadn't talked much since they had left the conference room. Clint knew better than to push her or to try to console her- that would only make her temper flair. Instead he had done exactly what Natasha had come to appreciate most about him- he had been a silent companion that stayed close to her and was there if needed. It was a reminder that they knew each other all too well- the way they preferred to be comforted, when to leave each other alone, how to speak without ever saying a word.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Clint frowned at her.

"Sorry, just thinking." She sighed and stepped over to him, grabbing the back of the suit and tugging it up over his butt. "I'm going to go out of a limb here and say your suit needs to be resized."

"You don't say." He pulled the front up and slipped his arms in, feeling like a roll of tubed meat. "I don't think I've used this thing since Russia. Maybe before."

"You've definitely put on some weight since then." She teased, zipping the suit up in the back. "There. A little snug, but it'll due."

"Until I bust out of the seams mid air and fall. Yeah, it'll do." He shook his head. "Work out they said. It'll be good for you they said." Natasha laughed and moved back to the wall. She tossed him a bag and picked up her own, strapping it into place. Clint secured his own and made sure his pistols were locked into place before grabbing his quiver. He made sure the top was secured before securing it next to his bag and went to stand next to Natasha.

"Shouldn't be too much longer now." He sighed. "The sooner we land and I can get my bow out, the better."

"The LZ is going to be hot, might be a minute. Think you'll manage?"

"Oh, you know me, sometimes I pretend like I know how to use modern weaponry." He shrugged. "So what's the plan here?"

"We drop in, try not to get shot by our so called allies, secure the front of the building, and then…I don't know." She bit her lip. "I guess we work our way inside."

"Do we secure the doctor first? Or go after…" Clint let the sentence die off.

"Things will be easier if we take down Drakov first." Clint watched as Natasha's jaw hardened. "Less of a mess trying to get the good doctor out."

"Doesn't seem right."

"What?"

"The whole thing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've met Steve and he isn't a bad guy. But that kind of power…when you start playing god like that, bad things happen. I mean, look at how he got here in the first place. Look at the huge cluster fuck that happened with Hydra. And the directors really think it is a good idea to be dabbling in it again?" Clint shook his head. "I trust Fury. I trust Coulson. But sometimes I question those above them."

"You aren't the only one. What do we do though? She shrugged. "I guess in a way I understand. Our biggest threat before was ourselves. Now we have gods and other worlds to worry about it. Makes you feel pretty small and insignificant."

"I guess." Clint sighed and glanced at the screen beside the bay door. "Fifteen minutes until we drop. Let's get this show on the road."

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.

.

The wind howled in Clint's ear as he hurled towards the ground, arms tucked at his sides. He could see two parties fighting below him in front of a large building and the sound of gun fire could be heard even from in the air. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and spread his arms, the wings of his suit engaging and turning his dive into a glide. Just before he reached the ground he tucked and rolled. He slammed a small metal pod into the concrete and a thick cloud of smoke erupted around him, concealing him from view.

"Natasha, you good?" He yelled into his mic piece as the sound of gun fire roared around him.

Clint ducked behind a concrete barrier and tore the backpack off his back. He unzipped it and pulled a short metal canister out. He ripped the lid off and tossed it aside before drawing the handle to his bow out. He wrapped his hand around the familiar grip and snapped it forward, the arms extending to their full length. He fished around in the can until his fingers found the string that was there and he strung his bow with expert speed. He left the bag lying in the street and tore the cover off his quiver before knocking an arrow to the string.

"Natasha, do you copy? We've got fifteen seconds of cover left. Where are you?"

"Right here." Her voice came from almost directly behind him and he jumped, whipping around to face her.

"Jesus don't do that."

"My ear piece isn't working." She yanked the comm from her ear and tossed it aside. "What's the run down?"

"Two men up top providing overwatch. Lots of foot soldiers in the front of the building. Militia behind us- hopefully they have enough sense not to shoot us in the back."

"You got the snipers?"

"You know it." Clint grinned. The smoke began to disperse and as soon as he could see the outline of the building he let an arrow fly from memory alone. The smoke cleared just in time for him to see a man topple from the building and he let his second arrow fly, downing the second sniper. Natasha drew her pistols and began firing shots into the men that were scattered in front of the building. Clint could hear their allies behind them, screaming and shouting orders to one another. The two agents ignored them and worked side by side, gun and bow sounding in harmony.

"Push up!" Clint yelled. He ran forward and slid into cover behind a vehicle that was on its side and watched as Natasha rolled into a crouch beside him.

"What's the plan?" She asked as she discarded an empty clip from her pistol and loaded a fresh one.

"We can't stand out here and fight all day. This isn't our battle. We need to get inside."

"Remember the blue prints Coulson gave us? There are air vents on top of the building. If we can get up there-" Her sentence was cut short as a grenade exploded somewhere in front of them, blowing a crater in the street. The two agents huddled against the car as rubble rained down on them and bullets continued flying overhead. Someone screamed and Clint realized that there was someone trapped between the two opposing forces.

"Nat, there is someone out here!"

"And what do you suggest we do? We are getting pinched here! These idiots behind us are likely to shoot us!"

"We can't just leave them out there!" Clint leaned around the edge of the car and spotted a small compact car that was on its roof. Someone was still screaming inside and he could hear a child crying. Natasha heard it too and she swore under her breath, yanking him back into cover.

"Damnit! Do you have another smoke?"

"Yeah. What are you thinking?"

"Pop it and I'll lay down some cover fire. We get them back to these so called allies and figure out a way to get onto the roof, preferably without all of Budapest knowing we are there."

"Sounds like a plan." Clint pressed the metal pod to the string and aimed it at the turned over vehicle. He let it fly and it pinged against the metal before erupting and billowing smoke into the air.

"Go!" Natasha sprang to her feet and began firing at the building, firing at anyone who dared to peek from behind cover. Clint slung his bow over his back and scrambled towards the car, dodging pot holes and broken car parts that littered the streets. He dropped to his knees as he reached it and peered underneath the roof only to be greeted by a screaming woman.

"Hey! Hey!" Clint held up a hand. "Easy! I am here to help you."

"My baby!" She wailed, straining against the jammed seat belt.

"Hang on. I'll get you both out." Clint dropped to his belly and pulled a knife from his belt. He cut her seat belt loose before wiggling around on his belly to the back seat. A young toddler was strapped into his car seat and was screaming at the top of his lungs. Clint's ear rang as he worked to cut the kid loose without hurting himself or the child. The woman crawled from the car and looked around bewildered as Clint grabbed the kid and wiggled back out.

"Oh, Ben!" She cried, grabbing the boy and crushing him to her chest.

"Come on, we've got to move. Stay low!" Clint pressed a hand to her shoulder and guided her back towards their cover.

"Come on!" Natasha grabbed the woman as soon as she was close and pulled her and the boy into cover. Clint ducked behind the vehicle just as a bullet grazed his arm and he swore, pressing himself to the metal.

"We're going to cover you, but you've got to get out of here, understand?" Clint yelled over the roar of gunfire. "Get back behind friendly lines. They'll help you."

"Thank you! If you-"

"Thank us later, go!" Natasha slammed a new magazine into her pistol and resumed shooting. Clint grabbed his side arm and joined her, providing cover for the retreating civilians.

"Isn't this the life?" Clint yelled, a bullet narrowly missing his ear. "You, me, and a street full of people who want to kill us! Doesn't get better than this!"

"This is practically a date night for us!" She yelled back with a smile.

"You aren't lying." He chuckled. "Let's get off the streets and find a way onto the roofs. We've got to reach those vents."

"Smartest thing you've said all day!" She grabbed his arm and pointed towards a ransacked building to their right. "Let's start there."

"I'll follow your lead."

"On my mark then!" Natasha reloaded her weapon before waiving her hand and they made a mad dash for the building, the sound of gunfire filling the air.

.

.

.

"Oof, watch your feet." Clint muttered as Natasha's boots hit his fingers.

"Sorry, it isn't like I can see!" She hissed and continued to crawl forward on her hands and knees. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Until it works. We've been heading down at a decent pace. It has to play out eventually."

"Or we hit a dead end and end up stuck in the ventilation. You going to crawl backwards uphill?"

"It'd be a good glute workout." Clint chuckled. "It is a shame it is dark. With you crawling in front of me, I bet your ass-"

"Oh, shut up." She kicked her foot back and narrowly missed Clint's head. "Can you see that?"

"No, I can't see anything, actually."

"There is light up ahead. We are coming up on a grill. So shut up!"

Natasha continued to crawl forward as quietly as possible, although it seemed to be pointless with Clint behind her. The ventilations tunnels were tight and with Clint's frame it made it hard to move quietly. The minutes ticked by in silence except for the soft thud of their hands and knees as they crawled forward until Natasha finally reached the grill. She pressed her ear to it and listened, but she heard nothing. She carefully lifted the grill up and set it inside the tunnel before poking her head out into the room. It was dimly lit, but she could make out several book cases and desks that held powered off computers. She could just make out the rumble of voices in the distance, but it seemed to be coming from somewhere outside the room.

"What do you see?" Clint whispered.

"Nothing. Let's get out here." Natasha eased herself over the hole so that she could ease her legs through it. She dropped to a crouch and pulled her pistol out, moving aside so that Clint could drop in beside her.

"I don't like this." He muttered as he landed with a soft thud. His bow and quiver was strung against his back, but he had a pistol in his hand. "It is quiet."

"Wonder where we are?" Her brow furrowed as she moved towards the door, pressing herself against the wall. "And where we go from here?"

"Hard to say without knowing where we are." Clint frowned. "I've got a copy of the blue prints, give me a second and I'll-"

Clint never got the opportunity to finish his sentence. The door suddenly flew open and the doorknob hit Natasha hard in the stomach. She staggered backwards and Clint whipped around, aiming his pistol at the door, but it was futile. Several men had already filed into the room, their rifles drawn and aimed at Clint. Natasha raised her pistol and one of them turned a gun on her as someone else pressed the muzzle of his gun against Clint's head.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you." He snapped, tapping the barrel against Clint's temple. Natasha said nothing, but slowly lowered her weapon. "Weapon on the ground. Give me that." He snatched Clint's pistol and tucked it into his belt. Natasha sat her weapon on the ground and caught Clint's eye, her mind racing for some kind of plan. They were out numbered five to two, and out gunned.

"Who are you?" Clint demanded, stalling for time.

"As if you don't know." A new voice came from the door. The lights flicked on in the room and a tall man stepped into the room. His black hair was streaked with grey and his dark eyes resembled coals. Natasha felt her stomach tighten and Clint's eyes flicked back and forth between the new man and her. They shared the same cheeks, the same nose. He felt his stomach do a flip and he caught Natasha eyes.

"It'll be ok." He mouthed, seeing the panic in her eyes.

"How nice of you to come and visit. It has been what? Almost seven years? Maybe even ten? Time really does fly when you're having fun." He chuckled. "Can you imagine my surprise when I found out that you of all people were working for Americans? And S.H.I.E.L.D at that?" He laughed harshly. "I had often wondered where you ended up. And then last year I just happened across a client who was all too willing to tell me what I wanted to know. Of course it didn't save his life, but it was a valiant effort on his behalf."

"What'd it matter to you?" Natasha asked defiantly as she met his eyes with a steely gaze.

"Because my dear, you know that no one gets to walk away from me. You of all people should have known that the best." He sneered at her. "And now the spider has became trapped in her own web. And it appears that she has brought a fly along to play with." He cast a glance at Clint. "Is this the mongrel you've been running with? My, my, you've really changed."

"He has nothing to do with this." Natasha's jaw hardened. "This is between you and me."

"Oh, you aren't wrong, my daughter." He smiled cruelly.

"If you touch her I'll kill you." Clint practically growled.

"Interesting." Drakov smiled slowly as he examined Clint. "Men, escort them to them to room B10. I believe it is time my daughter and I had a family reunion."


	16. Chapter 16

"Well, we've been in a lot of shitty situations, but this one takes the cake." Clint muttered as the final man left the room. They had bound the hands and feet of each agent and deposited them back to back in an empty room. Natasha scanned the room and frowned, wondering if they were being watched. She struggled against her bonds, but it was useless- Drakov had them tied in a way he knew she wouldn't be able to undo. She finally allowed herself to find Clint's hands, her fingers brushing against his for just a moment.

"Clint, I need you to listen to me, ok?" She finally spoke in a low whisper, her mind racing. She felt like her heart was in her throat, her chest tight. There was so much she wanted to say, but none of it seemed to come out.

"What's up?"

"They don't know who you are. They don't realize that you are the one who got me out. You have to keep it that way, understand? They'll probably kill you anyway, but at least they won't torture you first. Do you understand me? No matter what they say to me, no matter what they do, promise me you'll stay quiet."

"They aren't going to hurt you."

"Now is not the time for you to play hero." She snapped irritably. "You don't understand Drakov like I do. You don't-"

"Natasha, stop. We'll get out of this. We always do."

"You never get out of the Red Room, not really." Her voice broke and she felt a thrill of panic run through her. "They are going to kill me. I won't get away this time."

"Stop that shit." Clint scowled.

"Just know…" She trailed off and was quiet for a long moment, unable to find the words she wanted.

"I understand." Clint said after a moment, despite the fact she hadn't spoke. "Natasha, I-"

"Don't." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Please don't. Not like this. Not right now."

"Alright." She felt him sigh and his fingers squeezed hers. "Later then."

"Yeah, later." She said miserably. There would be no later, not by time Drakov was through with her. The thought of what could be coming made her stomach curl. What would he do first? Rape her? Beat her? Beat her as someone else raped her? He had no shortages of cruel and unusual punishments he liked to hand out. The door flew open and Natasha's head snapped up as Drakov stepped into the room flanked by a burly man.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" He grinned. "Conner, get her secured against the wall." The burly man nodded and yanked Natasha up by her hair. She ground her teeth together, refusing to make a sound, and did her best to stumble backwards as she was drug across the room. Clint watched, his jaw hard, a dark look in his eyes. She met his eyes for just a moment, a silent plea in her own for him to do as she had asked.

"Promise?" She mouthed ever so slightly. Clint just dropped his eyes, refusing to meet her gaze. She felt the panic welling in her stomach as her arms were yanked upwards behind her back and tied to a ring in the wall. The joints of her shoulders burned and she forced herself to take a deep breath, focusing on the lines of the tiles below her.

"Natalia, Natalia." Drakov sighed as he picked a thin metal tube up from the wall and walked towards her, swinging it in lazy circles by his leg. "How long has it been? Six, seven years? I must say I was rather impressed with how long you out foxed me. It is not often that I have such a hard time finding someone. But, it would appear that you were not alone in your efforts. You had some help from those people- SHIELD is it? They did a good job, they locked you away in a steel trap. But, alas, every steel trap has a release." He paused in front of her and reached over to tilt her chin up, his cruel eyes boring into hers. She looked past him and watched as Clint bristled, his jaw set in anger.

"You forget that releasing the trap is as dangerous as setting it in the first place." She bit off, jerking her head away from him.

"Still as feisty as ever I see." He shook his head. "Being away has done nothing for your obedience. But, I suppose I could blame myself for that. You are my daughter after all."

"I am not your daughter." Natasha bit each word off and punctuated it by spitting in Drakov's face. His eyes darkened and he flicked the pole around across her ribs with surprising force. Natasha's face contorted in pain, but she remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of crying out. Clint strained against his bonds, the veins in his neck bulging, and Natasha desperately fought to catch his eyes, to plead with him to stay silent.

"Oh, yes you are. And you will come to accept that once more before I end your miserable life." Drakov snarled and slammed the pole across her abdomen again. "Did you really think you'd ever be anything more than what I made you?" He growled, swinging the pole again. "Did you really think you could undo everything that I've done? I unmade you and created the perfect specimen. And you had to go and fuck it up."

"Go to hell." Natasha panted.

"You're already there." He tossed the pole aside and grabbed her by the throat. "You forget I know everything you fear. You forget that I am the one who created those fears. I can break you. I will break you."

"Get your fucking hands off of her." Clint's voice was a low rumble. Drakov turned on him and his lip curled.

"You'll speak when spoken to, boy." He lashed out with his foot and kicked Clint in the chest. He hit the ground hard before rolling onto his side and crawling back to his knees.

"Fuck you." He snarled in defiance.

"Clint!" Natasha cried as Drakov snatched the pole up and lashed it out. The blow landed across his cheek and Clint's head jerked, but he remained kneeling. His lip curled as he met Drakov's eyes and he spit blood from his mouth, a fire in his eyes that Natasha hadn't seen before.

"Does it make you feel like a man when you beat those who are helpless? Does it make you feel like a man when you rape your own daughter? You sorry piece of shit." Clint braced himself as another blow came, this one landing against his shoulders. He winced and rolled backwards, dodging another blow.

"You don't know what you are getting yourself into, boy." Drakov snarled and yanked him up by the collar, shoving him at Conner. "Switch them out. Our friend here needs to learn some respect before I kill him."

"You're the only boy here." Clint growled. "Don't call yourself a man. You are a coward, you are weak."

"Shut up!" Drakov couldn't swing the pole without hitting Conner, so he opted to punch Clint in the mouth instead.

"Make me." He spat at him.

"Clint stop." Natasha pleaded. He was taunting Drakov, fueling his anger. Why couldn't he just shut up and listen to her for once in his life?

"Silence!" Drakov whirled around to slap her. He shoved her into the wall and she slid down it to her knees. "It would seem that you care for this worthless whelp. Pity- you could have done so much better. But, you just had to run off. You had to try to get away."

"She didn't run anywhere." Clint met Drakov's eyes. He had no real plan other than to keep the Drakov's attention on him and away from Natasha. He couldn't see a way out, but he wasn't going to sit there and watch him beat on Natasha. He was going to do everything in his power to take that beating for her and hope that by time he was dead Drakov would be too exhausted to prolong Natasha's death.

"What?"

"I came and took her away. I walked straight into your pathetic compound and talked her into leaving. You're just under the illusion that you're in control, Drakov. You don't own her anymore than you own your men. They follow your lead out of fear. You have no respect, no-" Clint didn't get to finish his sentence. He had obviously struck a nerve as Drakov began raining blow after blow across his body, screaming in Russian the entire time. Natasha watched in horror as several cuts opened up across Clint's arms, his cheeks, his ear. Blood oozed down his chin and dripped to the floor in scattered droplets.

"Is that all you've got?" Clint asked, his voice raspy and strained. His eyes were unfocused, his chin hanging towards his chest. Drakov screamed one final time and threw all of his force behind his final swing. It connected with Clint's head and a large gash opened up on his temple. Blood poured down his face and Clint's body went slack.

"Stop!" Natasha finally managed, her voice small and weak. "Leave him alone."

"Shut up!" Drakov panted and kicked her in the ribs. "Just shut up." He threw the pole aside and looked down at his hands. Bloody blisters had opened up during his fit of rage and blood seeped from between his fingers. Conner looked at his boss with an open expression of horror, his eyes darting between Clint and Drakov.

"Sir…"

"Don't say a fucking word." Drakov snarled. "I am going to attend to my hands and then I'll be back to deal with her." He glowered at Natasha. "You'll pay for everything you've cost me." Natasha said nothing and shrunk against the wall, her arms trembling against their bonds. Drakov turned his back on them and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Conner hesitated before untying Clint from the wall and allowed him to fall to the floor. Sheer terror coursed through Natasha as he laid there, unmoving, his head bleeding profusely. Conner nudged him with his foot and shook his head, muttering something in Russian.

"Pathetic man."

Natasha felt a surge of pure anger course through her and she used the wall to push herself to her feet, her ribs protesting painfully. Conner turned on her, his brow furrowed. Natasha grinned at him slowly, tilting her head and waiting. He scowled and moved towards her to grab her, but she was counting on that. She dropped to a crouch and sprang up, pushing off his body and using the wall to twist in the air. She landed with her knees around his neck and she jerked her body hard. There was a crack and Conner dropped to the floor, lifeless.

Natasha untangled herself from his body and hunched over to grab the hilt of his knife with her mouth. She dropped it over her shoulder and caught it in her hands before flipping it over and cutting herself free. She cut her feet loose before crawling to Clint and cutting him free as well. She propped him against the wall, her heart pounding in her ears, and her fingers gently probed at the wound on his head. He would be bruised and hurt, but everything else would be superficial. But, the wound on his head could be fatal if it was bad. For a second her heart seemed to stop as she felt nothing but blood and mutilated flesh, but then the gash stopped. It was deep, but his skull still seemed to be in one piece.

"Damn you Clint." She swallowed hard and touched his cheek before moving to Conner's dead body. She cut his shirt off of him and once again she found herself trying to patch Clint up the best that she could. She knew she was racing against the clock; she had to get him out of here before Drakov had a chance to come back. She had to get him to safety and then she had to come back and finish the job.

"Come on big guy. You've got to wake up." She slapped his cheek lightly. "Come on Clint." He groaned softly and she patted his face once more.

"Natasha." He groaned, eyes fluttering open.

"Oh thank God." Natasha crushed him in a hug, her arms squeezing his shoulders.

"Ouch." He groaned, but he weakly lifted an arm to hug her back. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about it. I know you're hurt, but we've got to get moving."

"Ok. Give me a minute. My head." He winced as his head pounded, his vision swimming with spots.

"Yeah, you're pretty banged up." She touched his cheek. "But you're alive."

"You sound like you were worried." He smiled at her weakly.

"I told you told stay quiet." She swiped a hand across her eyes before grabbing him by the collar and kissing him. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, maybe. But I'm the one lying here instead of you."

"That wasn't your beating to take."

"Don't worry about me. I'm too stubborn to die."

"Being stubborn only gets you so far." She sighed before hoisting his arm over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

"What's the plan? We can't just waltz out of here."

"Like hell we can't." Natasha scowled. "We have the element of surprise right now. We just have to make it top side. They'll never see us coming."

"That sounds like a piss poor plan."

"You've got a better idea?"

"Leave me here and get the hell out of here."

"Not happening." She frowned. "Stop being stupid."

"I am just dead weight."

"Yeah, well, you're my dead weight. Let's move."

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Natasha moved forward in a crouch, the knife clutched securely in her hand. The two guards that stood at the end of the hall were obvious to her approach, chatting aimlessly amongst themselves. Clint watched her from further down the hall where he was leaning against the wall, feeling rather useless. They had managed to navigate the halls of the underground research facility and Natasha was sure they were nearing the surface. The sound of gunfire was growing louder overhead and the air was becoming warmer. Two large metal doors stood in front of the guards and Clint watched as Natasha crept closer and closer to them. She finally sprang and sank the knife hilt deep into the neck of one of the guards and shoved his body into the other. The man staggered in surprised and she yanked the knife free before flying at him, stabbing him in the throat. He grabbed at the blade and his throat gurgled before he dropped to his knees and fell over.

"Remind me not to piss you off." Clint muttered as he hobbled down the hall, using the wall for support. Natasha grabbed the automatic weapon from one of the men's backs and made sure it was loaded before grabbing a pistol and tucked it into her holster. She moved back to Clint and drew his arm over her shoulders once more, helping him towards the door.

"Almost there. Still with me?"

"Alive and kicking." He muttered. His head was pounding and his vision was still swimming. His whole body ached and protested at the slightest movement, but sheer determination to get out of there alive kept him hobbling along.

"I don't know about the kicking part." She muttered as she punched a button. The metal doors slid open and a blast of hot air filled the tunnel as the sound of gunfire amplified.

"Holy hell, we actually made it to the surface."

"And now we have to get to friendly lines." She frowned. "Let's slip out the back and try to flank around them. I don't want to get caught up in the middle of a firefight."

"Yes ma'am. I can do this all day."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes and they made their way to a side door and slipped outside into the open air. The sound of shooting and yelling could be heard from around the front of the building, so Natasha continued to go left. They made their way through several sacked out buildings and ruined stores before they finally started moving forward instead of sideways. The minutes ticked away as sweat poured down Natasha's face. Clint's shirt was soaked through and his vest chaffed against his shoulders with every staggered step. They finally staggered out of a building and straight into a cluster of soldiers.

"Freeze!" A young man yelled, yanking his gun up towards them.

"Easy!" Natasha held up a hand.

"Hey, you're those SHIELD agents!" The guy's face lit up. "Where in the hell have you been?"

"Inside." Natasha rolled her eyes. "My partner needs medical attention. Can you help us?"

"Yeah. Oh man, they did a number on him."

"Thanks, captain obvious." Clint muttered.

"Here." Natasha passed Clint off to the men. "Keep him safe, or I will personally kill you all. Understand?"

"What?" Clint scowled at her. "What do you mean keep me safe?"

"I'm going back in, Clint. I have to. I have to finish this."

"Natasha-"

"Don't." She shook her head. "This was never your fight. If I don't go back…"

"I understand." Clint said softly. "You'll never be able to move forward. I get it."

"I'll be back."

"Promise?" He met her eyes. "Promise me you'll come back."

"Don't worry so much." She sighed. "I promise. Try not to get yourself killed in the meantime."

"We'll take good care of him." The young man grinned at her. "Good luck!"

"Luck is for armatures." She looked at Clint for a long moment before leaning in to brush her lips against his. "I'll be back." She ignored the two men gawking at them.

"I'm counting on it." She could see the worry in his eyes, but she knew what she had to do. She had to go back and face Drakov. She had to go lay her demons to rest.

**Oof. That was hard to write. My babies. *ugly cries*. As always, thanks for reading :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Let me start by apologizing because it has been almost two weeks since the last update! I've been crazy busy between work and riding my horse daily. I've stopped playing video games and staying up late, which is when I did most of my writing. That being said, I am making it a point to finish this story out! So I present chapter 17 and promise 18 is on its way!**

"I've got to be out of my mind." Natasha thought to herself as she made her way back through the ruined buildings, retracing the very path that they had taken upon their escape just an hour or so earlier. She couldn't help but feel crazy as she walked back towards the very place they had just fled from. Getting away from the Red Room in the first place was an extraordinary feat and it had left Clint mauled, but Coulson had saved them in the end. Their second escape had just been pure luck- Clint was beat half to death, they'd had no plan, but Natasha had somehow managed to get them out with nothing but a knife. And now she was going in alone armed with a rifle, a knife, and a her wits. She had no real plan to get inside, much less a plan to escape. She just knew that she had to confront Drakov. She had to face her past or it would continue to dog her every step. She would never be able to rest, never be able to call anywhere home.

"Promise me." Clint's words seemed to bounce around in her head like a pinball. She felt stupid for promising him anything; how could she expect to get away a third time? She'd be lucky if she even made it to Drakov in the first place. She had to try though, she had to end the nightmare she had become trapped in one way or the other. Natasha didn't want to die, but she didn't want to keep living in fear. She didn't want to keep holding herself back, to keep pushing others away, because her past was constantly looming over her like a snake waiting to strike.

"I promise." She had promised him she'd come back. She had kissed him too. She had seen the way he looked at her, she knew the way she had looked at him. Insanity was the only explanation. How else could she have allowed herself to fall that deeply into madness? How else could she have allowed herself to become compromised like that? And the worst part was that she had meant what she said with every fiber of her being; she wanted to return to Clint. She wanted to be able to go back and tell him everything that she couldn't seem to put into words, but she couldn't get to him until she eliminated the road block between them: Drakov, her past, the Red Room.

"They had to have come this way." A man's voice yanked her from her thoughts. She flattened herself against the wall of the ruined convenience store, the door just inches to her right. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife and she waited, her heart pounding in her ears.

"It is pointless to keep looking." A second voice snapped.

"Do you want to be the one to go back and tell Drakov that?" The fist voice replied irritably.

"Whatever." The second voice muttered.

The bellon the door dinged as it opened inwardly and a tall man stepped through. Natasha held her breath and watched as a second man stepped into the store. She waited until the door fell shut to spring towards the second man. She grabbed him from behind and pressed the metal band on her wrist to his neck. He jerked as electricity coursed through his body and his comrade turned on them, the barrel of his gun whipping into firing position. Natasha flicked the knife from her hand and jumped aside as his gun fired. The bullet barely missed her as she fell to the floor. She rolled to her feet and grabbed her pistol, ready for a fight, but her knife had found its mark. She watched as the man crumpled to his knees, the knife still lodged in his throat.

"Thank you for playing, boys." She muttered as she pulled the knife free and wiped it clean on the man's shirt. As she tucked the knife into her belt she thought about the countless hours that she had spent with Clint as he had taught her the art of knife throwing. It had never been a strong skill of hers until he had tutored and driven her towards perfection. Now it would seem that all of those lessons had paid off.

Natasha sighed as she patted down the men until she found what she was looking for: a keycard. She pocketed it before she slid out of the building and continued following the path that would lead back to the embassy building. She began trying to formulate a plan as she walked, but the details of the 'how' remained sketchy. Ideally, she'd slip back inside unnoticed- the firefight was still going on strong outside the building and it would hopefully provide the distraction that she needed. Once inside, she would track down Drakov and kill him, or at least that is what she kept telling herself. Something at the back of her mind kept nagging her, giving her an uneasy feeling about killing him, but she kept pushing it aside. After Drakov was handled she would track down the doctor- assuming he was still alive- and try to escort him back to their allies. And then she'd finally go back for Clint and they could leave this god forsaken city.

Her thoughts consumed her until she reached the very door that she had stumbled out of with Clint not even two hours before. She pulled the rifle from her back before cautiously pushing the door open and easing herself inside. She looked around and was relieved to see that no one seemed to be around. The only voices she heard were coming from the front of the building and they were distracted with the fight outside. She skulked through the shadows as she headed towards the double doors that would lead her back into the halls and down into the rooms below. She slid the key card from her pocket and swiped it, listening as the lock clicked open. She slipped inside before pulling the door shut behind her, her heart pounding; there had been no guards, there had been no resistance so far. It was easy, too easy. She had a sinking feeling that Drakov was expecting her to come back, that he wanted her to find him. But, she couldn't turn back, not now. She had to go and face her fate, regardless of what that fate may be.

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Natasha paused in the middle of the hall as she heard voices approaching from around the corner. She had made her way fairly deep into the base while avoiding detection and her gut told her that she was closing in on Drakov. If her memory served her correctly the blue prints of the building had shown a large office just down the hall from where the voices were coming from. She hesitated, trying to decide what to do; she could say screw it, fight her way through, and confront Drakov, or she could hide and wait for the men to pass. As the voices drew closer she stepped towards a room to her left and let herself in, closing the door behind her. She was already tired and wasn't sure how much fight she had left in her. She knew that taking down Drakov would be no easy task and she wanted to make sure she had enough left in her to get the job done.

"And who might you be?" A thick German accented voice made her spin around. The room was dark except for a small lamp that sat on a desk. A balding man set there with his chin propped in his hand, his eyes looking her over curiously. He wore a threadbare worn jacket over a white shirt and suspenders. His brown slacks were torn and a pair of cracked glasses hung from his collar.

"Depends on who you are." Natasha crossed her arms and stared him down. He was the opposite of threatening- she had no doubt that she could overpower him with one arm tied behind her back. Sometimes you just knew a person wasn't dangerous, at least not physically, and this was one of those times.

"I am Doctor Feurer. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"My name is Natasha." She frowned at him. "The doctor huh? I was wondering how I was going to find you."

"So you've been looking for me?" He arched a brow. "Are you here to kidnap me from the men who have me hostage? I hope you'll treat me better than they have. They are a rather barbaric lot."

"No, I am not here to kidnap you."

"To kill me then?"

"No. I am supposed to get you out of here." She sighed. "My partner and I were sent here by Fury."

"Ah, yes, director Fury." The doctor frowned slightly. "How nice of him to think of me. I am sure that he is thinking of my formula as well. Where is your partner?"

"We…were captured." Natasha's jaw hardened. "He took a beating. I got him out, but I had to come back for you."

"Had to?" He raised a brow. "You'll have to forgive me Natasha, but I am old, and I have seen much in this world. I can not help but feel that you did not come back for me, at least not primarily."

"I need to find Drakov." She said with a steely voice.

"Ah, now, that makes more sense." He smiled slowly. "He has wronged you as well then, no?"

"That is none of your business." She snapped. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, actually. Just down the hall from us. There shouldn't be any guards. He is rather arrogant, that Drakov. He might as well believe himself to be a God. Do you know he had the nerve to show up here and invade _my_ lab? He demanded _my_ formula! He threatened to burn this lab to the ground and all my work with it if I did not give it to him."

"And did you?" Natasha frowned.

"Of course not. The formula is incomplete. We haven't even began testing on rodents yet! But, he gave me a week to finish the formula." The doctor spread his hands towards the papers that littered the desk. "He's paid me several motivational visits." Feurer said coldly.

"Yeah, he likes those kind of visits." She sighed. "They don't have you guarded?"

"Where am I to go? This base is crawling with those damn monsters."

"Fair enough." Natasha shrugged. "I am going to see Drakov. I'll come back for you."

"Oh no." The doctor shoved away from the desk and began stuffing papers into files. "I am coming with you."

"This will be easier if you just wait."

"I refuse to stay here!" He snapped as he shoved files into a brief case. "Something could happen to you! I have to get out of here alive. I have to. I am so close to completing my formula!"

"I could tie you up and leave you here." Natasha threatened as she grew irritated with him.

"I will scream. I will blow your cover."

"Are you always so irritating?" She scowled. "Get your shit and let's go then."

"I knew you'd see it my way." He grinned at her and she watched as he stuffed more papers into his suitcase.

"Hurry up."

"Why do you need to speak to Drakov?"

"That is none of your concern!" She glared at him.

"You are going to kill him?"

"And if I am?"

"Then I won't have to." He shrugged. "No man threatens me like he has and walks away with no consequences." The doctors lip curled and Natasha looked him up and down. He may have been frail, but perhaps he was dangerous in a different kind of way.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." He clasped his briefcase in his hand. "Once I am free do your people plan on liberating this building?"

"They are already working on it. What's it matter? You have your research."

"I have part of it!" He frowned. "There are machines here that I need! There is equipment here that I need to be able to finish this project!"

"That's a shame." Natasha muttered. She hadn't felt good about the entire project when she was told about it and the doctor was doing nothing to change her opinion about it. Men could not handle that kind of power- it went to their heads, corrupted them. And in the doctors case, drove them to madness.

Natasha turned to the door and opened it, peeking up and down the hall. It was empty so she pulled the door open all the way and set off down the hall without a sound. The doctor followed her noisily, muttering to himself and dragging his shoes along the tiles. Natasha ground her teeth together and resisted the urge to turn around and smack him for being so noisy.

"There!" The doctor said in a loud whisper and pointed towards the last door on the left side of the hall. Natasha shot him an irritated look and pressed her finger to her lips before motioning for the doctor to stay put. She crept towards the door, but the doctor followed her, an uneasy look on his face. Natasha felt her irritation flare, but it was replaced by fear as she approached the door. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt her hands grow clammy as she reached for the door knob. She turned it slowly before taking a deep breath and shoved the door open.

Drakov looked up from where he sat at his desk and a slow smile stretched across his face. A gun sat at the corner of the desk and several pieces of paper were scattered in front of him. His hands were wrapped in white linen strips and a suit jacket was folded neatly over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hair salt and pepper hair was combed neatly into place. Natasha could see his eyes looking her, eyes that were eerily similar to her own. She hated that she could see the resemblances of her own face reflected back at her through his. She hated that she looked any thing like him, that any part of him was a part of her.

"I knew you'd be back. I just did not expect you so quickly." Drakov said slowly and leaned back in the desk chair as he rested his feet on the desk.

"How'd you figure that?" Natasha crossed her arms, fighting to keep a neutral expression. The raw hatred, the bitterness, she felt towards him left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Because I know you."

"You don't know me."

"Oh, but I do. You forget that I made you, I created you." He laughed harshly. "Your every instinct, every gut feeling you have, I instilled those into you. I crafted you into the perfect machine. Well, near perfect. I suppose everything has a flaw- nothing is perfect."

"You crafted me into nothing." She snarled. "You don't know me like you think you do."

"Oh, but don't I? You've come here to kill me, have you not?"

"You seem awfully calm about that." Natasha frowned.

"I am not worried about it. You don't have it in you. Despite my efforts there was always a part of you that remained weak. There was always a part of you that clung to that last shred of humanity like a spider would cling to its demolished web. You couldn't give it up, you could never truly submit to me. Do you know how much trouble you would have saved yourself? Do you know how much pain you could have been spared? And do you want to know why you won't kill me now, despite everything I have done to you? Because you need me. Because without me your life does not make sense. You would just be pathetic and broken, alone in the world with no excuse for the monster that you are."

"Only one of us is a monster." Natasha moved fast and snatched the pistol from the table before pressing it to Drakov's forehead. The doctor blanched and took a step back, his eyes widening. Drakov raised his head slowly to look at his daughter, the barrel of the gun never leaving his forehead.

"Why put on a show?" Drakov sneered. "Either pull the trigger or move aside child."

"I am not a child." She growled. "And it is not a show."

"Then shoot me!" He raised his voice. The doctor jumped at his shouted words and pressed himself against the wall, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

Natasha's heart pounded in her chest and she felt a cold chill run down her spine. Her chest felt tight and there was a lump in her throat that she couldn't seem to swallow. She stared down the barrel of the gun at the man who had raped her, the man who had beaten her, the man who had watched as others raped and beat her. He had broken her, he had unmade her, and he'd had the nerve to call her his daughter. How long had Natasha hated him? How long had she feared him? She could not remember a time before the day her mother died. Her every memory, her every thought, was haunted by him and the years of torture. Even now with everything that had happened, all the recent years spent with Clint, had been clouded by the lingering damage he had done to her. How satisfying would it be to pull the trigger? To put an end to the madness that he had created.

Her hand trembled and she felt her finger twitch on the trigger, but she didn't pull it. Her eyes bore into Drakov's and she thought back to the day she had escaped. How surprised he must have been to realize that she was gone. She was sure that he had always planned to track her down in the end, but there had to be a moment where he panicked, where he realized that he had just lost his greatest weapon. There had to have been a brief moment where she had finally beat him at his own game. And now she had the opportunity to end the game. She felt her heart beat quicken and her hand trembled. She suddenly thought back to Clint's words on that same day and her eyes hardened.

"No one gets to define what is right and wrong except for ourselves. So you have to ask yourself, is what you have been doing wrong or right? I am not telling you that working for SHIELD is the right thing, but I am telling you that it is a chance to start again. It is a chance to start cleaning your ledger up."

"You're right." Natasha finally spoke, her voice soft. "I won't kill you." She dropped the barrel of the gun towards the ground and took a step back, her shoulders shaking.

"I told you." Drakov sneered.

"Are you mad?" The doctor blanched, his voice rising in pitch. "He'll kill us both!"

"Maybe so." Natasha shrugged. "But I won't kill him."

"Do you not see what has happened here?" Drakov leered at the doctor. "She knows she can not beat me. She knows who her master is here. She wants to come back, she needs to come. Because without me, she is nothing. Her entire life has been spent in the Red Room. One does not simply walk away from that."

"No." Natasha said slowly and Drakov's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean no. I am not crawling back to you like you think. I have beaten you and you don't even realize it."

"How have you beaten him?" The doctor fumbled his bag to his chest and coward before the two of them. "You're both barmy!"

"Go on, answer the good doctor. Just how have you beaten me?" Drakov scowled at her.

"You unmade me, you broke me, you turned me into a monster. I hate you more than you'll ever know and I want to kill you. I should kill you. I should kill you for what you have done to me, what you did to my mother. You deserve that much, but I won't do it. Because you may have turned me into your puppet, but I have finally broken the strings. I won't live in your shadow anymore. I won't spill anymore blood on your behalf. And I won't live the rest of my life with you dogging my every step. You may have unmade me, but I will remake myself. I will find my place in this world and you will not be a part of it." Natasha took a deep breath as she finished her thoughts and she could swear she felt a physical weight being lifted from her shoulders. Drakov stared at her, his face blank, as if he couldn't process her words. She heard the doctor shuffling behind her and she gritted her teeth, wishing he'd get still and shut up.

"He must answer for his crimes! Kill him!" The doctor shrieked.

"No." Natasha scowled. "I won't be the one to pass judgement on him. We will take him back with us. SHIELD can decide what to do with him."

"SHIELD would have him working along side you in the field! You're no better than he is!" The doctor wailed.

"Would you shut up?" Natasha snapped and trained the gun on Drakov once more. "Get up."

"And if I say no?"

"Get up." She repeated, her voice full of steel. "Or I'll make you get up. Just because I won't kill you does not mean I won't hurt you."

"This is preposterous!" Another shrieked protest and she heard the doctor's bag fall to the floor.

"Would you shut up?" Natasha snapped. She flicked her eyes to the doctor for just a brief moment and Drakov sprang, his hand lashing towards the underside of the desk. Natasha flinched and whipped her sights back on him, but it was too late. A gunshot filled the room and her vision was filled with red.


	18. Chapter 18

**So this chapter feels a bit awkward to me, but I won't lie: I haven't wrote in over a month now . I am just trying to get back into the swing of things. I might try to re-write this chapter later, but it will still have the same basic plot. So enjoy and thanks for all the kind messages asking if I was ok and where I was! I got married and had several family emergencies come up so it has been a crazy few weeks! As always, thanks for reading!**

Natasha whirled around and fired the pistol on pure instinct alone. She watched as the doctor staggered backwards into the wall and slowly slid down it, blood smearing down the wall as he went. The gun fell from his lifeless hands and Natasha took a step back before whipping back towards Drakov, training the pistol on him. The doctor had shot him in the forehead and his aim had been true. How had she not heard him pull the gun? How had she not sensed the danger? She took a step back from Drakov, from the man who was supposed to be her father, as a wave of nausea swept over her. She stared at his lifeless body and she could physically feel an invisible bind being released from her chest. How long had he haunted her every step, her every dream? How many things had he stolen from her? What else had he robbed from her other than her innocence? Natasha didn't even want to think about that list- not here, not alone.

She turned her gaze back to the doctor and the brief case that laid beside his dead body. She knew that she should secure it, that she should take the notes and all the research back to SHIELD like the good like errand girl she was supposed to be, but defiance was blazing through her like an uncontrolled fire. For the first time in her life she could be free; with Drakov gone, she no longer needed SHIELD. She could walk away right now and never think twice about it because she finally felt as if she controlled her future. But, she knew that wasn't what she wanted. Despite the flaws and mistakes that were made by SHIELD she had enjoyed her time spent on the missions, at the base, in the helicarriers. Coulson had grown into a friend, even Fury in a way. And Clint…her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him and she licked her lips before crouching to grab the suitcase.

She carefully laid it on the desk before moving to stand next to Drakov. She fished around in his pockets and pulled out a long cigar. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of tobacco reached her and she recalled several unpleasant memories. She tossed it aside and pulled out several more items, including a key card, a pen and a folded piece of paper that contained the information that had on her. She sat everything in a neat pile and added a handful of change and a bloody band-aid to the pile before her fingers found what they were seeking: a lighter. Something else, something smooth and cool, brushed against her fingers and she fished it out as well before setting it on the desk.

The item was a small vail of blue liquid that sloshed back and forth as it settled on the table. Natasha felt a knot form in her throat and she knew what she was looking at: a test tube of the doctors incomplete serum. She felt a deep resentment towards it, towards everything that that it stood for, towards everything that it had put her and Clint through. She felt her blood boil and she snatched several books off the book shelve that stood against the wall. She tore handfuls of paper loose and tossed them into the center of the desk, covering the suitcase and the piece of paper with her information.

She snatched the lighter off the desk and used the butt of her gun to crack the vial of blue liquid right into the middle of the mess. She watched as it soaked through several papers- so much liquid for such a little vial. She lit a piece of paper and tossed it onto the pile and watched as the flames soared to life, reacting to the blue liquid as if it was gasoline. Natasha took a step and skirted her way towards the door, watching as the flames grew, dancing across the desktop. She stopped at the threshold and took one final look at Drakov before turning her back on him; this would be the last time she ever had to worry about looking behind her.

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Clint bolted upright as the ground rumbled around him. His ribs screamed at him in protest and he winced and he wrapped a hand around his side. He muttered a curse and pushed himself off the bed and hobbled his way towards the door as another rumble shook the building. As soon as he opened the door he was greeted by the smell of smoke and his brow furrowed as he looked around the small motel. The rebels had set up a base of sorts at the vacant hotel and it wasn't that far from the embassy building. A thick plume of smoke was rising in the air from that direction and Clint grabbed the shoulder of a passing soldier.

"Hey, what is going on?"

"You really shouldn't be out here sir." The man frowned at him and Clint recognized him as one of the men Natasha had handed him off to.

"To hell with that, what happened?"

"An explosion. At the embassy building. We aren't sure what happened yet."

"My partner, is she back? Has anyone seen her?"

"No, sorry sir."

"Fuck." Clint swore under his breath. "I'm going down there."

"Sir…"

"Either help me or get out of my way, kid. You don't understand."

"Alright, alright." He held his hands up in surrender. "Wait here." The man jogged back towards a room across the way and returned shortly after with a tan ballistic vet and a gun. "Here."

"Thanks." Clint slipped the vest over his tattered shirt and hung the rifle from his shoulder. "What's the fastest way?"

"This way, come on." The man caught the attention of a guard and waived him over. "Let the commander know that Mac and the spy are going down to the hot zone, ok?"

"Aye sir." The guard saluted and jogged off.

"Come on." Mac set off down the street, Clint following along as fast as they could. They made their way over the rubble and ruined streets until the embassy building finally came into view. Flames danced from the ruined roof and a new layer of rubble littered the street from where the building had exploded.

"Shit." Clint muttered, watching as men poured from the building, some obviously wounded, some on fire and screaming. The resistance herded them into controlled groups, disarming them and making them kneel on the street.

"Hey," Clint grabbed the shoulder of a solider. "Have you seen a woman? Red hair?"

"Get off me." He growled. "I'm busy."

"Fucking answer me." Clint snarled.

"No, now get off." The man shoved him away before stalking towards a group of captives.

"I'm going to see if I can find anything out." Mac frowned. "Stay out of trouble- these guys don't know you from Adam."

"Whatever." Clint muttered, his eyes sweeping the groups of prisoners, searching for any sign of Natasha. He turned his gaze towards the building and stared as a lump formed in his throat. What if Natasha hadn't made it out? What if she had been captured? Would Drakov risk everything just to kill her by blowing up the base?

"Natasha." The very thought drove Clint to his knees. He grabbed his ribs and groaned, his vision swimming as pain flared through his body. His head throbbed and stars flittered across his eyes.

"Clint!" A familiar voice cried from behind him. Before he could turn around someone tackled him. "What are you doing out here?" She demanded.

"Natasha." He breathed, untangling himself so that he could shift to face her. He tried to find the words but he just shook his head before crushing her to his chest. He buried his face in her hair and spread his hand across her back as his heart hammered in his throat. Natasha shifted back so that she could look at him and her brow furrowed.

"You look like shit." Natasha scowled at him. "What are you doing out here?" Clint just shook his head and continued to hold her close. "Will you say something?" She frowned at him.

"I thought I'd lost you." He whispered against her hair.

"Oh." He felt her swallow and she took a deep breath. She felt the adrenaline begin to seep from her body and she shivered as a million emotions set in. She felt the tears spring to her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying to fight them off.

"Are you ok?" Clint asked softly.

"Yeah, fine." Natasha fired the answer off automatically and Clint tightened his hold on her as another shiver wracked her body.

"You don't always have to be ok Natasha." Clint sighed. "Cut the bullshit."

"No." Natasha whispered as she buried her face into his chest. "No, I'm not ok, Clint."

"Talk to me, Nat." He shifted back and cupped her face, running a thumb across her cheek. "What happened?" His eyes searched hers answers, but she dropped her gaze and bit her lip nervously.

"Not here." She shook her head. "I need to get off the street, away from these people." Clint nodded in understanding and winced as he climbed to his feet. Natasha frowned as pain flicked across his face and she stood up next to him. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"This way." Clint lead her back the way he had come, back towards the motel. With Natasha aiding him they made it back in good time. Clint paused half way across the courtyard and frowned. "I should let them know I am back...fuck it." Clint muttered and dismissed the thought. That didn't matter right now. He lead her across the courtyard to his "room" and pushed the door open. He stepped aside and allowed Natasha to enter the room before stepping in behind her. He locked the door and closed the blinds before turning to face her. His brow furrowed as they locked eyes and her lip quivered ever so slightly. Clint held his arms out and Natasha stepped into his hug, crushing herself to his body.

"Clint." She closed her eyes and fisted his shirt in her hand.

"It's alright, Nat. It'll be alright." He shuffled them towards the bed and eased her into his lap as he sat down.

"I'm not alright." She whispered against his neck.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I don't know." She confessed, her thoughts running wild. "Just…talk to me. I feel like I am falling…"

"I thought I had lost you." Clint said the first thing that came to mind as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I…I couldn't do anything but sit there and watch that building blaze. It felt like someone had yanked the rug out from beneath me."

"Clint." She shook her head. That was wrong; he shouldn't feel that way, not about someone like her.

"I know that tone. Hey, look at me." Clint frowned at her as he gently tipped her chin up. "You know your past doesn't define you. It doesn't make you a bad person or any less of a human. So don't take that tone with me."

"I'm scared Clint."

"Scared of what?" He ran his thumb along her jaw.

"That he was right. That without him…I'll be lost. All I've ever known is to run, is to try to survive and stay one step ahead of him. I've spent my entire life pretending to be the hunter when I was really the prey. And then you came along and started changing the rules to the only game I knew. And I keep trying to play your way, I keep trying to keep up, but how can someone like me walk away from the only game they were ever taught to play? I feel lost Clint. He is dead and I still feel lost."

"Did you kill him?" Clint asked softly.

"No." Natasha whispered. "I wanted to. I was going to…but I remembered something you had told me years ago. If I had killed him, that would have been another handhold he had on me. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction."

"What happened then?"

"The doctor shot him. So I shot the doctor."

"And the fire?"

"I burned his research and made sure the entire lab went with it." She sighed. "Look at the cluster fuck it caused- we don't need that in the world." Clint nodded slowly and was quiet for several minutes before speaking.

"You've already walked away."

"What?"

"You said how could you walk away from the only thing you've ever known, but you've already walked away, Natasha."

"How can you say that?"

"Because look at you right now: you're sitting here letting me hold you, confiding in me. Look at the last couple of years: you've been living with me, you sleep with me and watch all my stupid movies and laugh at my dumb jokes. You bought Coulson a tie for his birthday, you leave stuffed cats in Fury's office, you fight with Hill over the last bits of pizza in the cafeteria, you've spent some time talking to Steve and trying to make him feel like a part of whatever fucked up mess he is in. Sure, you've still got demons, but hell, we all do. It doesn't matter what we do, those demons are always going to be a part of us. But, we learn to live with them, we learn to embrace them. You've changed so much since we met. Don't let anyone take that away from you. Don't fool yourself into thinking that nothing has changed, because everything has changed." Clint rested his forehead against hers, his eyes searching hers.

"I hate you sometimes." She mumbled and closed her eyes.

"Yeah, I know." He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. "You're not lost Natasha, you are just finding your own way. And you don't have to do it alone."

"I thought he was going to kill you." Her eyes were suddenly on his, her gaze intense. "I thought he was going to kill you and that I was going to have to watch him do it. I've never been so angry…or scared. Scared of the thought of trying to do all this without you, scared of the fact that I even need you to begin with. Do you know how hard that is for me to admit? That I need you like-" Clint cut her off with a kiss as a tear rolled down her cheek, his hand resting against her neck.

"Don't cry, Nat. It's over and done with. I knew what I was doing."

"Bullshit." She muttered against his lips. "You never listen to me."

"Do you think I could've sat there and watched him do that to you?"

"No, but-"

"No buts. It all worked out in the end."

"Did it?" She sighed. "How are you feeling?"

"No worse than after you beat me up in training." Clint teased, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grin.

"Oh, shut up."

"Yes ma'am." Clint chuckled and they were quiet for several minutes as Natasha rested her head against Clint's. "Hey, Nat?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it later?"

"Don't Clint. Please, not right now." She sighed. "I'm all over the place."

"I understand." She felt him sigh and when she met his eyes she saw the hurt there.

"Clint." She groaned.

"Don't worry about it." He forced a smile. "You should get some rest- I'll go hunt down someone to call Coulson for extract."

"Don't leave." She scowled at him. "You know it isn't like that."

"Rest." Clint eased her off his lap and onto the bed. "I'll be back later."

"Don't be a horse's ass." She grabbed the vest he wore and yanked him down as he tried to stand.

"I'm not, but do you think you're the only one feeling a thousand different ways right now?" He frowned. "I don't want to hurt you, you know that, but I also don't want to hurt myself." He felt an argument coming on, one who knew that they needed to have. How long how they skirted around how they felt about each other? Sure, they slept together, they kissed, they spent most of their free time together, they were inseparable. But neither of them had ever put it into words, no one had ever confessed how things really were. How long could they keep dancing in the flames before someone got burnt?

"Natasha." Clint groaned as he met her eyes and noticed the tears there. He raked a hand through his hair and pushed off the bed, pacing back and forth. "What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

"Then how am I supposed to know?" He snapped as he stopped in front of her.

"I don't know!" She snapped back. "Don't start barking at me though!"

"I'm not barking!"

"Yes you are!" She sprang to her feet and was nose to nose with him. Fire flared in her eyes and she scowled at him. "I fucking hate you." She said suddenly.

Clint's brow furrowed in surprise, but before he had time to process her words she was kissing him, her hands in his hair. Once the initial shock wore off he was kissing her back, but this was a different kind of kiss. It was heavy and needy and nothing like they had shared before. Natasha's teeth grazed his bottom lip and her hands fisted in his hair as her tongue found its way inside his mouth.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Clint murmured as he moved his lips to her neck. He kissed just below her jaw and then nipped at her ear.

"Shut up and come here." Natasha jerked him towards the bed and her fingers flew over the straps on his vest. Once he was freed she tossed it aside and jerked his tattered shirt over his head before throwing it aside to join the vest. "Oh my god." Her eyes widened as she saw the bloody bruises on his torso and the white linen that was wrapped around his ribs.

"It looks worse than it feels." Clint shrugged, his mind racing as he tried to keep up with her. What in the world was happening? He felt like he was stuck in a pool of molasses: everything inside his head was moving at half the speed that it should have been.

"You're a liar." Natasha pulled him into another kiss, this one softer and more tender. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing across his stubble.

"Natasha, what do you want from me? I'm confused." Clint rasped as they pulled apart.

"I told you I don't know." She muttered as she flipped their positions and pushed him onto the bed. "But I am tired of fighting with myself."

"You're not making this easy."

"Have I ever made it easy?" She smirked at him as she crawled onto the bed and carefully straddled his hips. She bent over to kiss him, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

"Natasha." He groaned. "Don't pick a fight you can't finish. I can't take it right now."

"Who said I don't want to finish it?" She challenged as she brushed her nails along his cheek.

"Look, Natasha, you've been upset and you-"

"Know that I want you. There are a million things I don't know Clint, but I know that I need you. I want you. And I know that I am tired of trying to fight those feelings and skirt around them. So if you don't feel the same way, do me a favor and let me know now."

"Stop that." Clint scowled at her. "You know that isn't where I was going with that."

"Then show me where you want to go with it." She challenged and captured his mouth in a kiss once more. Clint just smirked at her before flipping their positions and fumbling with the button on her jeans; he had never been one to back down from a challenge.

.

.

.

Natasha sighed as she rested her head in the crook of Clint's neck and listened to his still ragged breathing. His fingers were lazily moving up and down her spine and his body was warm underneath her. She stretched her legs out before curling her toes around his and moved her fingers up to trace patterns around his nape and ear. She heard his chest rumble as he chuckled and he gave her a playful slap on her behind.

"That tickles."

"Mmm." She replied.

"You alright?"

"Never been better." She murmured and stifled a yawn.

"Oh really?" Clint teased and rolled them over so that he was hovering over he. He pressed a kissed to her lips before running his thumb along her jaw, his eyes playful and bright. Natasha smiled at him before brushing his mused hair back into its usual upright position.

"You look awfully happy."

"Why wouldn't I be?" He smiled back at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Because you took a wailing earlier."

"Nothing worse than what you do to me in the gym." He teased and brushed a kiss against her chin, then her nose. Natasha rolled her eyes and hugged him to her chest before resting her forehead against the top of his head with a sigh. A million thoughts were still racing through her mind and several demons were rattling against their locked drawers, but Natasha was fighting to keep them at bay. What she had just experienced with Clint had made her _happy_. She couldn't remember a time where she had slept with someone and it hadn't been forced upon her or something she had to do to complete a job. What she had just shared with Clint was so much more than sex; so much more that she was scared to give it words, because she knew what she was feeling. She knew what the butterflies in her stomach meant, what the warm fuzzy feeling inside her chest was.

"Hey, you're slipping away from me." Clint's eyes were suddenly on hers. "Come back to me."

"Sorry." She offered him a half smile. "Just thinking."

"I can tell." Clint reached for her hand and interwound his fingers with hers. "It's been a crazy week…Budapest."

"Budapest." She agreed with a sigh.

"I guess you could say it was a cluster fuck…figuratively and literally." He grinned at her.

"Your stupid." She rolled her eyes but she couldn't suppress a smile.

"I know it." He chuckled before rolling off of her and onto his side. Natasha turned her back to him and scooted into his body without hesitation. "So that's how it is hmm?" He laughed.

"Mhm." Natasha pulled his arm across her body and slid her leg through his. Clint chuckled again and pulled the scrappy blanket over them before yawning and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

"I should really try to radio Phil…"

"It can wait until the morning."

"Who are you and what have you done to Natasha?"

"I mean I guess if you really want to get up…"

"You have a point."

"I usually do." Natasha closed her eyes and relaxed in Clint's embraced, her fears and insecurities temporarily stated.

"Hey." Clint suddenly whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

"Hmm?"

"It hurts to lay on my side."

"Fine." Natasha heaved a theatrical sigh and rolled onto her back. Clint grinned at her before wiggling down to rest his head on her chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her sternum. She watched as the rise and fall of his back slowed and she felt him relax against her body. Sleep and exhaustion clouded her mind and her eyes suddenly felt unbearably heavy. She stifled a yawn and wrapped an arm around him before pulling the blanket up and closing her eyes.

"Hey." Clint said softly, his voice husky with impending sleep.

"Hmm?" Natasha made a sound, too tired to speak any more.

"I love you."

And with those three little words every drawer that she had managed to nail shut came flying open in one grand explosion. The shrapnel tore through her, shredding her resolve and robbing her of her breath. She tore her eyes from the head that was laid on her chest, so peaceful and oblivious to her blight, and squeezed her eyes closed in a desperate attempt to stop the wave of emotions and thoughts that were assailing her. She knew it that moment that she had done the one thing she vowed she'd never do: she had fallen in love. And to make matters worse, he loved her. And despite it being the very thing she wanted, despite knowing that she wanted the life they had together, she knew that she had to do the very thing that would break her: she had to run, she had to get away from him. Because no matter how hard she had tried to fool herself, she hadn't changed: She was scared and exposed.

Drakov had taught her the game and he had perfected the way she played it. And despite him being dead, he had still won in the end. And Clint was about to pay the price. Afterall, how can a man walk away from the only game he was ever taught to play?


	19. Chapter 19

**A little angst, a little filler. Just getting set up for the next few chapters that will lead into the first Avengers movie. I felt like I needed to go back and touch on Barney so that there will be no plot holes as the story progresses. There will still be a Laura Barton and kids, but it will be done the correct way and not the Age of Ultron's: "let's throw an entire movie series worth of subplot away" way. As always, thanks for reading :)**

Natasha sighed as she sat down on a low concrete wall and wrapped a thin blanket around her shoulders. She picked up a hot mug of coffee and wrapped her hands around it, the warmth cutting through her chilled bones. She had been up for hours now, unable to sleep, and she had finally decided to escape outside into the chilly early morning. Her eyes searched the horizon as if she would find the answers to the million questions and thoughts that were running through her mind. A handful of soldiers milled about on patrol, but no one bothered her. They left her alone to her thoughts and a part of her wished that someone would stop to bother her- she couldn't escape her mind, not on her own.

The horizon began to glow a soft pink as the sun began to rise and the long thin wispy clouds that stretched across the sky began to glow red and yellow. Several buildings cast long shadows in her direction and a cool breeze was blowing in from the river. On a normal day the view would have been stunning and one that she would have woken Clint to see, but she couldn't stand to see him. Not right now. Natasha closed her eyes and took a shaky breath as she thought about what she was about to have to do. She knew she was going to break him because she was going to break herself in the process.

The rumble of engines cut through the mental trap she was stuck in and her head snapped up. Several tan covered Humvees were rolling towards her in a single file line, their engines piercing through the silence of morning. Several soldiers converged at the entrance to the motel and casually leaned against walls and light poles as they waiting for the vehicles to reach their destination. Natasha cast a glance towards Clint's room and was relieved when the door didn't open. The vehicles rolled to a stop on the street in front of her and a man hopped out wearing sunglasses. He grinned at her and swiped them off before tucking them in his pocket and walking towards her.

"Natasha!"

"Hey, Phil." She said with a sigh and his brow instantly furrowed. He gave her a long searching look and the concern became evident on his face.

"What's wrong Natasha? Where's Clint?"

"Inside. Room three." She shrugged. "He was still asleep when I came out here."

"Is he ok?"

"A little banged up, but he'll live. It's been a long week."

"Oh, yeah?" Coulson frowned at her. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing. I just…nothing." She ran a hand through her hair and her jaw hardned. Natasha slipped an elastic band from her wrist and gathered her hair into a pony tail before lying the blanket across the wall.

"I've known you long enough to know that you are full of shit." Coulson frowned at her. "Is there anything I can do? Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we didn't have a fight." Natasha pushed off the wall and frowned. "And no, there is nothing you can do. Coulson….Phil...I have to get out of here."

"Out of Budapest?"

"No, I need to go. I _have_ to go."

"Oh." He frowned. "As in…"

"Yes." Natasha frowned.

"How long?"

"I don't know. Days? Weeks? Maybe years? Maybe forever? I don't know Phil. I can't keep doing this though." She snapped, throwing her hands wide. Coulson's brows rose in surprise; Natasha was rarely one to let her emotions surface in front of others.

"I suppose I can't stop you." He frowned. "Does Clint know?"

"No." She snapped irritably. "He doesn't know." Natasha brushed past him and walked up to the first Humvee. She had a quick discussion with the driver before moving to the passenger door and opened it.

"Natasha…" Coulson sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, Phil, you wouldn't understand."

"I just hate to see you this upset." He frowned. "Are you sure there is nothing I can do?"

"No…Well, yes. Can you do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Tell Clint…that I am sorry."

"For?"

"He'll know." Pain flicked across her eyes and Coulson's brow furrowed. "Thanks, Phil."

"If we need you…"

"You know that is just a pipe dream of Fury's." Natasha sighed, remembering Fury's dream of an elite team. "But, if there is an emergency, a real emergency, I'm sure you'll be able to find me."

"And you'll come?"

"Probably not. Depends on the emergency." She sighed. "Thanks for everything, Phil."

"It's been a pleasure, Natasha." Phil frowned and watched as she climbed into the Humvee. The engine roared to life and then rolled away from the curb. He watched as it turned towards the bridge and traveled across it until it became just a spec in the horizon.

"What in the hell happened in Budapest?"

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.

.

"Natasha." Clint mumbled sleepily and rolled over to grab her. His arm found the cool mattress instead and he groaned groggily.

"Morning." A familiar voice said from off to his left. Clint sat up and rubbed his eyes before looking from the empty spot in the bed to where Phil Coulson was sitting in a chair at the small table.

"Phil?" Clint frowned in confusion. "Where's Natasha?"

"You look like crap." Coulson frowned back at him.

"Good to see you too." Clint muttered and scratched his hair.

"What in the world happened to you?"

"I got the hell beat out of me." Clint sighed and groaned as his ribs screamed in pain for no reason. "Oh man, I should not have gone to sleep."

"Yeah, everything is always worse when you wake up." Coulson chuckled. "We'll get a doctor to look at you as soon as we get to the helicarrier."

"You have no idea how ready I am to be out of here." Clint muttered and then frowned. "Where's Nat at?"

"Clint." Coulson sighed. "She's gone."

"She went ahead of us? Why? Was she hurt? I tried to get her to tell me, but-"

"No, Clint. She didn't go ahead of us. She left."

"What?" His heart dropped and his brow furrowed. "What do you mean she left? Where'd she go?"

"Don't know. She didn't say. She just told me she had to get out of here, that she couldn't get doing 'all of this', whatever that was."

"And you just let her go?" Clint scowled at him.

"I don't have the right to stop her. Not anymore than I've ever had the right to stop you when you go running off."

"Yeah, but…" Clint's sentence trailed off and his face paled. "Was she upset?"

"She seemed pissed, but in a confused kind of way. I don't think she really knew what she was mad at. Did you two have a fight?"

"What? No." Clint sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, we had the opposite of a fight."

"Meaning?"

"We slept together."

"I thought that was old news?" Coulson frowned at him.

"No, Phil, we _slept_ together."

"Oh." His ears turned red. "That is something new?"

"Yeah, it just hasn't been like that, ya know?" Clint ran a hand over his face. "God I'm an idiot. I knew she was upset."

"Did she say no?"

"Please." Clint glared at him. "I'm not that kind of guy."

"That's not what I meant. Don't start snapping at me. I'm trying to help you here."

"Sorry." Clint muttered. "No, I mean she wanted to. But, I also know something was bothering her. She was off ever since she came back from the embassy building. I thought maybe-" his words suddenly died off and his groaned.

"What?"

"I told her I loved her."

"Oh." Coulson frowned. "Did you mean it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"She's Natasha." They said in unison.

"I've got to go after her." Clint swung his legs off the bed and stood. He swayed for a moment before taking a step and staggered hard.

"Woah, hey!" Coulson sprang to his feet and caught him. "Easy. Sit back down big guy."

"No, help me. I've got to go."

"You can barely walk. Think this through Clint. She's pissed off, probably because she is scared and hurting. Give her time to think. You know she won't talk to you until she is ready to anyway."

"Yeah, but what happens if she is never ready? I know her Phil- I fucked up."

"And you think running after her is going to fix anything? What are you going to do? Force her to talk to you? Tell her you didn't mean it? Don't force her hand Clint, you know better."

"Damnit!" He balled his fist and punched the mattress with a pathetic amount of force. Pain flicked across his face and Coulson frowned at him.

"Come on, let's go back. We can get you checked out and patched up, then we will go from there. Start with a call, a text, but you know that running after her isn't going to fix anything."

"Phil." Clint turned his pained gaze on to one of the very few people he considered his friend. "What if it is because she doesn't feel the same way?"

"Oh, you're pathetic." Coulson rolled his eyes and clamped him on the shoulder. "Don't start that. Come on, on your feet. Let's get out of Budapest."

.

.

.

"I see. Well, thanks." Coulson sighed into his phone. "No, his is alright. They are finishing some particle therapy now- his kidneys were a little bruised, but nothing we couldn't fix." He watched the red beams cross back and forth over Clint's back and he was aware of the agent's eyes boring into his. He had a feeling that Clint knew who he was speaking to. "I'll keep an eye on him. Are you sure you don't- ok, ok. I understand. If you need anything you know my number."

Coulson ended the call and pocketed his phone before entering the small medical chamber. The nurse flipped the red beams off and unstrapped Clint from the chair before taking his pulse and blood pressure one last time. Clint rolled his shoulders experimentally and shifted his ribs side to side before nodding.

"That'll do. Thanks."

"Mhm." The nurse nodded to Coulson before dismissing herself.

"That was Natasha."

"Yeah. I needed a debrief."

"And she answered?"

"Give her time Clint."

"It's been a day."

"That's twenty four hours. Have some patience."

"How'd she sound?" His gaze was pained, full of concern and hurt.

"Like she needs time to think. She told me to keep an eye on you if that makes you feel any better."

"No, not really." Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So what's the story? What happened after I got passed off?"

"Natasha went back inside. She found the doctor, who just happened to have his research. She went to confront Drakov. She chose not to shoot him- she was going to bring him in. The doctor turned out to be a little nutty and shot Drakov, so she shot him."

"And the fire?"

"Hmph." Coulson shook his head. "She lit the whole damn place on fire. Serum, research notes, state of art equipment- all of it. It isn't funny." Coulson frowned as Clint chuckled.

"I mean it is a lot of paperwork for you, but you have to admit that it was a very Natasha thing to do."

"I guess. Fury is going to rip us both a new one and you know it."

"Hey, what is this us? I was incapacitated!"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll buy into that." Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Did she say anything else?"

"Nope. And no I won't pull her location. And you won't either- you hear me? Leave her be Clint. Trust me."

"Yeah, yeah." Clint sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do with myself Phil."

"Go take your ass to your room. Shower. Drink a little. Hell, drink a lot. And then sleep. You deserve it."

"Do I?" He sighed. "Knocked out half the mission, had to be drug out, sat out for all the good stuff. And then I ran one of our best agents and my best friend off. Oh, yeah, totally deserve it."

"Knock it off. Natasha might not be here, but I'll kick your ass for her. Shit happens. That is life. Don't mope. You're better than that."

"I guess." Clint frowned.

"Oh!" Coulson's face suddenly lit up. "I got a call from someone while you were in Budapest."

"Barney's doctors?" Clint's face was suddenly anxious.

"No, Barney."

"What?" Clint's eyes snapped to his. "How?"

"I think that is for you to go find out. He is doing well though and he appears to be of clear mind and body."

"Don't fuck with me Phil." Clint's voice was strained. "That's impossible."

"I don't know the details, Clint. They wouldn't release them to me. But, you should go over there in the morning."

"What the hell." Clint ran a hand over the back of his neck, his heart racing. "It's been years- what would change all of the sudden?"

"Not sure. I figured you could use a little good news though." Coulson squeezed his shoulder. "Go home and get some rest. I'll check in with you tomorrow evening."

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.

.

"Ah, Mr. Barton!" A red-headed nurse beamed at him from behind the counter.

"Hello, Shannon." Clint forced a friendly smile. He hadn't been able to sleep at all last night, the combined thoughts of Natasha being gone and the unknown with Barney keeping him awake until the first cracks of dawn. He had finally drifted into a restless sleep only to have a nightmare and wake up not even an hour later.

"How are you today?"

"Oh, I'm alive." Clint shrugged. "How is he? What is going on?"

"Barney is doing fantastic- he will be thrilled to see you. He's been asking about you non-stop the last several days. I understand you've been out of the country though?"

"Yeah, but how? Phil said he is of sound mind? I thought that wasn't possible? It's been years now."

"We don't fully understand what has happened, Mr. Barton. We brought in a new psychiatrist- Miss Laura Myers. They hit it off and she got more out of him that anyone has in the last several years. She began to slowly draw him out of his shell and then all at once he just…snapped back. There is no medical explanation that we can find."

"That's…crazy." Clint shook his head and his heart raced. "How much does he remember?"

"Bits and pieces from everything after you brought him here. He's lost time of course, but he remembers you coming to visit and a lot of his previous therapy sessions."

"Is this permanent? Or…" He frowned, fear clouding his thoughts.

"We have no way of knowing."

"Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's in a regular room now- he can actually be discharged within two weeks."

"I'll make arrangements for him."

"That may not be necessary." Shannon suppressed a smile. "I'll let him tell you about everything though. Come on, I'll take you down." She pushed away from the desk and lead Clint down a long hall. They passed several rooms, including the mental ward rooms which Clint was all too familiar with. The hall opened up into a wide room where several patients milled about, some talking and playing board games, others watching TV or chatting quietly together. Clint's eyes swept over the room and landed on a familiar dark haired man. They locked eyes and a wide grin split across the other man's face, his brown eyes lighting up.

"Clint!"

"Barney." Clint choked on the word as a lump formed in his throat. Barney jogged across the room and tackled him in a hug.

"Look at you man! My little brother's all grown up!" Barney stepped back and grinned at him, then frowned. "What's eating you, bro? You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks." Clint shook his head. "I guess I am in shock is all. The last several years…"

"I know. Crazy huh? I go from being a walking dummy to being myself. It's crazy." His expression was so similar to Clint's that it was scary. "How's life been bro? I haven't seen you in a couple of months. How's that chick you were always telling me about? I'm surprised she isn't with you. I remember she was here last time. What was her name again?"

"Natasha." Clint's voice broke and he felt a wave of emotion crash over him. Barney sounded so much like himself, so much like he did as a kid- rambling a million miles a minute, a happy carefree soul who's favorite person just happened to be his little brother. How many days had Clint spent up here talking to someone who could barely respond? How many nights had he prayed to be able to have a normal conversation with him again? And now here he was, right as rain.

"Oof, I sense some bad vibes there. You two had a fight or something?"

"Not really." Clint sighed. "I'll tell you about it later. Let's talk about you…it's been years, Barney." Clint looked him over. He had gotten a haircut since Clint had last visited; his hair was now cropped short on the sides and combed neatly into place on top. He hadn't shaved a thin layer of stubble coated his jaw. His shoulders no longer slumped, instead he stood straight and proud with full control of his body.

"I know, I know." Barney shook his head. "Like, I remember you coming up here and talking to me. I remember all the doctors talking to me. And I wanted to respond, I wanted to be me, but it was like I was someone else looking at myself. And then Laura came along and just boom- it's like I got catapulted back into my own body."

"Barney." Clint grabbed him and crushed him in a hug. "God I missed you, you stupid punk."

"Love you too, bro." Barney grinned and hugged him back. "You gotta tell me about all this secret agent shit- I remember bits and pieces of what you've told me. That's some crazy stuff bro."

"You're telling me." Clint chuckled. "Come on, let's go sit down and talk."

"Sure, thirsty? Hungry?"

"Barney!" A soft voice called from across the room. Clint looked up as a woman entered the room. She had soft brown eyes and hair that matched and she was looking at Barney in a familiar way- it was the way he had often looked at Natasha.

"Hey, Laura." Barney looked up and grinned at her. Clint looked back and forth between them, brows raised, as he was suddenly forgotten.

"How are you today?" She smiled at him as she approached and embraced him in a hug.

"Still me." He grinned at her. "How are you?"

"Still me." They shared a laugh over their private joke. "And this must be your brother."

"Oof, yeah. Where are my manners?" Barney facepalmed. "Clint, this is Laura. Laura, this is my baby brother, Clint."

"I'm hardly a baby." Clint rolled his eyes. "Nice to meet you." Clint offered her his hand and she shook it.

"The pleasure is all mine." She smiled. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Nothing too bad, I hope." Clint chuckled.

"Nah, Barney dotes on you." She grinned at his brother. "I'm headed home for the day- just wanted to stop and tell you bye."

"You working tomorrow?"

"Mhm."

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Barney pulled her into a hug and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Mmm, tomorrow." She smiled at him. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"You as well." Clint smiled at her and they watched her walk down the hall. "Damn Barney, you already hitting chicks up? It's only been a few days, hasn't it?"

"I felt like I've known Laura my whole life." Barney shook his head. "It is the craziest thing."

"I'm really glad to have you back, Barney."

"Ah, don't go getting all sentimental on me." Barney reached over to muse Clint's hair as if he was still eight years old. "Come on, let's go sit down and catch up. I'm like ten years and a whole ass red-headed secret agent lover behind."


	20. Chapter 20

**And so it begins…heading full steam into the movie-verse!**

"Ouch, would you watch it?" Clint snapped irritably, his voice harsh and unforgiving as the nurse tried to fish the bullet out of his arm.

"Would you sit still then?" The nurse snapped back at him. "I am absolutely _sick_ of seeing your ass in here Barton! This is the second time this week!"

"Shit happens. Last time I checked you didn't get paid to tell me how to do my job."

"And I don't get paid enough for you to talk to me like a damn dog!" She slammed the tongs in her hand down and the sound of metal hitting metal rang throughout the room. "You're such an asshole!"

"Your bed side manner is shit." Clint snarled. They stared at each other and the nurse balled her fists, her eyes narrowed. Barton was no stranger to her; she had been treating him for years now. But the man that sitting before her now was not the same man she had treated several months ago. He had dark rings around his eyes and his hair was long and disheveled. A thick layer of untamed beard covered his jaw and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a strung out drug addict that had just rolled in off the street.

"Do you realize you've been in here over twenty times in the last four months?" Her voice was softer. "You're getting reckless."

"You don't know anything." Clint scowled at her. "Get this fucking bullet out of my arm so I can get out of here."

"And then what? Go and get yourself shot again? Or have another 'accident'? I'm calling you out on your bullshit- someone has to before you get yourself killed."

"That is none of your business." He snarled again.

"No, but I believe it is mine." Nick Fury stepped out of the shadows, a frown on his face. "Good afternoon Miss Bevelle."

"Director." She nodded in greeting before crossing her arms and glaring at Clint.

"Barton."

"Fury." Clint's tone was clipped and his hands clutched the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.

"Miss Bevelle, I've been going over your work the last several months. You've been doing a fantastic job keeping this idiot pieced together. For that, I have to thank you."

"I'm just doing my job." She shrugged.

"Don't you have a newborn at home?"

"He's a few months old now, but yes." The nurse smiled.

"Seems to me like you could use some time off after dealing with this prick." Fury glared at Clint. "Go ahead and get out of here, go enjoy a few days with your family. My treat."

"Oh." Her face lit up. "Thank you! But… I have a job to finish." She picked the tongs back up and glared at Clint. "Don't move." She threatened.

"Whatever." Clint grumbled. Silence stretched through the room as the nurse worked and after several moments she dropped a bullet onto the tray next to Clint. She flushed the wound with alcohol, ignoring his protests, and wrapped his arm as tightly as she could without causing harm. That would show the bastard.

"There." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are obviously familiar with the after care routine by now." She rolled her eyes. "Try not to get yourself killed. Director." She glared at him and then smiled at Fury before excusing herself from the room.

"Bitch." Clint muttered darkly as the door shut.

"The only bitch I see here is you." Fury crossed the room and flung a packet of papers into Clint's lap. "You know what that is, Barton?"

"Santa's naughty list?" Clint snapped.

"Cut your bullshit with me. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, well, excuse the hell out of me."

"I'm about to excuse your ass into house arrest!" Fury snapped. "That is an accident and injury report, or more specifically twenty of them! In four _months_\- that's more than you've had your whole career. You've turned into a sloppy, loud mouthed asshole. It just so happens that I don't like sloppy loud mouthed assholes. So you'd better have a damn good excuse for me Barton, because I am pissed."

"Sorry for inconveniencing you. Accidents happen though." Clint shrugged and dropped his gaze.

"These aren't accidents. I see right through your shit. You've become reckless, you do stupid stuff and make bad decisions and don't seem to mind. She's gone, Barton. She fucking left you, just like she left me, Coulson, and everyone else. She left and she isn't coming back. And no amount of stupid decisions is going to change that."

"You don't know anything." Clint snapped, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, I know more than you think! Stop pining after someone who isn't coming back! Do you think getting yourself killed with change anything? Don't you think that if she gave a damn she would have come back already?"

"Shut up!" Clint jumped to his feet, his eyes darkening.

"No, you shut up and fucking listen to me!" Fury took a step towards him, his eyes intense. "I'm pulling you out of the field, Barton. I am done."

"What? You can't do that!"

"Oh yes I can. And I am." Fury's voice became eerily calm.

"You can't put me on house arrest. I'll leave."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." Fury resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Fucking assassins." He muttered to himself. "No, Barton, you're coming with me."

"Where?"

"To the Mojave?"

"Into the desert? Going to tempt me for forty days and forty nights? Try to convert me into a-"

"Look, smart ass, if you keep it up I'll have you patrolling the whole damn desert on foot. No, I need another set of eyes. We are working on something big and I don't trust anyone as far as I can throw them."

"And you trust me?"

"Unfortunately." Fury scowled. "You'll be on a security detail- don't look at me like that. At least you can't get yourself shot over there. Doctor Selvig is doing some research there on-"

"On that cube that we fished out of the ocean." Clint scowled. "Look, Nick, we just watched half of Budapest get blown up over a damn vial of serum. That cube and everything associated with it is bad news, no offense to the good captain himself."

"That cube means that there are things out there bigger than us, but you already know that. You've met Thor. You've seen the mess that was left behind first hand."

"So what are you going to do? Track the bigger things down and politely ask them to stay away? We're setting ourselves up for a disaster here. That thing should've been destroyed."

"Well, unfortunately for you that isn't your call, Barton. I just need someone I trust to be my eyes and ears while I am away. There are people above me who are calling shots I don't like and I've got a gut feeling that something is coming. We're knocking on doors and we don't know what is behind them."

"Fine." Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Not like I have a choice in the matter anyway."

"That's the spirit. Some time away will do you good." Fury frowned as he looked him over. "Look, go take a shower, shave, get a hair cut. You look like shit. Get yourself cleaned up and packed. We'll leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah, ok." Clint shook his head before brushing past Fury. "A fucking security detail," he muttered to himself as he stepped out into the hall. "Fucking directors."

.

.

.

Clint sighed as he swapped his phone to airplane mode and tossed it onto the small table in front of him. He picked his earbuds up from where they lay around his neck and put them in his ears before cranking the volume to his music up. He shifted so that he was sitting cockeyed in his seat and stared out the small window of the private jet as the thrum of his music reverberated around his skull. Several men bustled about below, some of them loading luggage, others performing last minute checks on the plane. From the corner of his eye Clint watched as Fury duck into the plane, but he didn't acknowledge him. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone deal with any bull that Fury might throw at him. Maria entered next and Clint fought the urge to roll his eyes; of course she'd be coming along.

"Barton." Clint could barely hear Fury's words to him as Fury made his way towards the cockpit.

"Director." Clint muttered before leaning his head back against the headrest. Maria passed him without a word and he closed his eyes and tapped his fingers impatiently. They were supposed to be in the air by now and he felt as if he had been sitting for forever. An untamable anxious jitter was dancing along his skin, making his antsy and ready for something, anything, to happen.

"Why so antsy?" A voice cut through the song blaring in his ears. Clint's eyes snapped open and he jerked his headphones out.

"Phil!" Clint couldn't help but grin despite his sour mood. He had hardly saw Coulson at all ever since they returned from Budapest. Coulson had been busy handling things for Fury and was spending the majority of his time away from the base. Clint had caught enough rumors and pieces of conversations to know that SHIELD was working on something big, but the specifics were still unknown to him.

"What's up, Barton? Heard you've been causing trouble."

"Me? Trouble? Never." Clint chuckled. "What about you? What've you been up to? How's that girl? The one who plays the cello?"

"Stop changing the subject. Fury filled me in. What's your deal?"

"Please, I can't handle another lecture right now." Clint groaned. "I've just been off man, that's all."

"Mhm. I'll go ahead and pretend like I believe that." Coulson narrowed his eyes at him. "Go ahead, ask. I can see the question burning you up."

"Anything?" Clint breathed. "Anything at all? A call? A text? A fucking carrier pidgeon?" He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes intense, pleading.

"No." The other man shrugged. "Just silence."

"How do we know she is ok? That she is alive?"

"Oh, believe me, she is alive."

"I thought you said you hadn't gotten anything?"

"I didn't."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because I've been keeping tabs on her too. I've got a soft spot for her because I have a soft spot for you." Coulson rolled his eyes. "But I also ran into her a couple of weeks ago."

"What? Where?" Clint demanded.

"Can't you be satisfied knowing that she is alive and well?"

"Not really." Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "How did you run into her?"

"It doesn't matter- we were handling matters that had some mutual business. Let it go, Clint… Oh, don't look like that." Coulson frowned. "She hasn't returned any of your calls?" Coulson frowned. "No texts?"

"No…"

"You've left a voicemail?"

"And say what? 'Uh, hey, this is Clint. Look, I know I freaked you out when I told you I loved you, but I miss you, so let's pretend it never happened? Is that cool?' Yeah, no, I haven't left a voicemail."

"You don't have to sound so petty." Coulson rolled his eyes before sighing and fishing for another subject. "So Fury is sending you to the underground, huh?"

"I'm not petty. I am bitter. There is a difference." Clint shrugged. "And apparently. You going to be hanging out with me? I brought Old Maid and Go Fish."

"Man, I hate that I'll miss out on all that fun." Coulson said sarcastically. "Unlike you, I'll be in and out. What we are working on is big- it is taking up a lot of our time and resources. Fury has me all over the place trying to keep things in order."

"It is hard being a big cheese, huh?" Clint chuckled.

"You could've known if you had taken Maria's spot."

"Wasn't interested then, not interested now." He shrugged. "This base- what is it like?"

"Well, the research facility is underground. That's where you'll be stationed at."

"I hate being underground."

"Yeah, I am not a fan either. Don't get me wrong, it is an amazing facility, but it has a very ominous vibe to it." Coulson stifled a yawn.

"You look like you could use a good nap."

"Right back at you. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

"No, dad, I haven't." Clint rolled his eyes. "Since when do you know me so well?"

"Ten years of being friends will do that to a guy." Coulson chuckled. Silence stretched between them and Clint stuck one earbud back in as Fury and Maria sat down across the aisle from him. The plane began to rumble down the airstrip and Clint closed his eyes in an attempt to rest.

"Hey, Clint?" Coulson suddenly spoke.

"Hmm?"

"Don't give up hope yet…"

"I left my hope in Budapest."

"I feel like I am on an elevator to hell." Clint muttered and shifted his backpack to a more comfortable position. It felt as if the elevator car had been descending for hours, not minutes. Coulson smiled slightly and settled against the wall while Fury stared out the small window as if he was watching something interesting rather than cables and steel cords.

"Wait until you see the stairs." Maria Hill smiled impishly. Clint rolled his eyes and ignored her as the doors slid open revealing a large room filled with monitors that held various stats and energy levels. Several men in white coats bustled about as they checked the computer screens and several disappeared off somewhere to the left. Clint could just make out the top of a stair case as he stepped into the room and his eyebrows shot up as he turned in a circle, his stomach clenching. The walls of the room were made of glass, as well as the floor. Turbines rotated below him and he could see the blinking lights of server bundles stationed along the wall. A giant spiral staircase wrapped around the whole assembly and led to another vast open room below.

"Impressive, I'll give it that." Clint shook his head. "Hope nobody ever drops a coffee mug though- crack, splat, game over."

"Please," Maria rolled her eyes. "This glass could resist a blast from a tank."

"Ever tested that?" Clint raised a brow.

"Care to be the test subject?"

"If you two are done," Fury interrupted. "I'd love to get downstairs so we can discuss business."

"Right, sorry, Sir." She cleared her throat and moved ahead of them, her head disappearing as she started down the stairs.

"Sorry sir," Clint mocked silently as he followed Fury down the stairs.

The trio made their way down into the lab and Clint couldn't help but feel slightly out of place amongst all the white lab coats and fancy lab equipment. Two rows of computers, servers, and monitors ran down either side of the room creating a middle aisle that led up to a fancy looking device. It was centered in the middle of a slightly raised lane that had a circular platform at the end. It held several devices that looked like solar panels and Clint's brow furrowed. He looked back to the center device and blanched as he realized what he was looking at; the tesseract was centered in the middle of the device.

"Dr. Selvig!"

"Nick!" Dr. Selvig spun around with a smile. "I'd heard you were coming! And Barton…It's been a while." The doctor's tone cooled as he spoke to Clint.

"Dr. Selvig." Clint forced a smile, his eyes darting uneasily to the tesseract. "How are you?" He forced the formality. He and the doctor hadn't saw eye to eye on several issues in the past.

"I'm well. Phil." He reached over and shook Coulson's hand adamantly.

"Doctor. I see you are in good health."

"Doing fantastic, actually! Isn't this lab amazing?" He spread his hands and grinned as he turned back to Fury. "Nick's given me all the best toys!"

"Toys, doctor?" Fury raised a brow. "I hope these toys are helping our cause."

"Of course, of course!" Selvig strode across the room and waived them over. "Come look at this- we've began to track energy surges from the tesseract. I think we are close to something- I'm just not sure what."

"Is that supposed to sound promising Doctor?"

Clint watched Fury walk over to Selvig and the men bent low over a computer, Selvig's hands moving back and forth as he talked. Clint searched the room for Coulson, but he and Maria were standing off to the side having a heated discussion. Clint sighed and looked around the room, his eyes searching for any points of entry and exit. Thankfully the stairs seemed to be the only way in and out of the room: that would make it easier to keep an eye on anyone coming and going. He eyes found a series of catwalks that ran across the room and then a ladder. He took one last look at his distracted comrades before strolling across the room towards the ladder. He scaled it and found himself with a birds-eye view of the room below. He grinned to himself and leaned against the railing, watching as Fury and Selvig made their way over to Hill and Coulson. This was the perfect spot- out of reach from anyone who would talk to him and perfect for keeping an eye on things. Coulson's head suddenly swiveled and Clint knew that he was being looked for. He pulled his cellphone out and punched in a quick text.

'Look up.' Coulson's eyes flicked up and found Clint.

'Seriously?' Clint could see his eyes roll from across the room.

'I work fast.'

'No kidding.'

'I can see everything from up here. It's out of the way and no one will pay attention to me, but I can pay attention to them.'

'Fury says you're an idiot.'

'*you're.' Clint watched as Fury leaned over to look at Coulson's phone.

'He says your on a security detail, not a grammar Nazi.'

'Just doing my duty as an American citizen. Don't say the N word. Captain Stickler might pop up and beat me with his shield.'

'Sorry, I forgot to laugh. I'll try to remember next time. Anyways, What can we get for you to make your life a little easier?'

'Maybe a cot and one of those camping chairs with the fancy little net cup holders? I brought my own snacks.' Clint slipped his backpack off and grinned as he held it in the air for Coulson to see.

'Of course you did.'

'And the files on any personal with access to this room.'

'That is a more reasonable request. I'll get started on it.'

'Oh, and could you store my bow in the armory? You never know when I might need to be a ninja.'

'I highly doubt you'll need it. As a matter of fact, I believe Fury told you to leave it at home.'

'It's stashed under the bathroom sink in the plane.'

'Seriously Barton?' He watched Coulson's shoulders rise and fall in a sigh.

'You're the man.'

'Flattery will get you nowhere.'

'Yeah, but it might get me a cool camping chair.'


End file.
